A Lion Comes!
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: When a renegade witch doctor trains man-eating lions and leads a bloody revolt, the adventurers must save their friends. Marguerite becomes her alter ego Morrighan and casts protective spells to disrupt the witch doctor's malevolent magic. Susan (OC) is sprayed in the eyes by a red spitting cobra, and her sight must be saved. Capt. Thorne finds love. Sequel to prior safari fics.


Disclaimer:

No claim is made that I own basic rights to "The Lost World", those residing with the estate of the late Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and such entities as New Line Cinema. Some characters in this fic are my own. They will be apparent to TLW fans, all of whom should recognize those from the TV show. Most such characters have already appeared in the fic, "On Safari", and in my other safari fics.

**This adventure is Rated as Mature,** lest anyone feel that something in it passes beyond lesser guidelines, although nothing in it is very explicit by modern literary standards. Some scenes include nudity, sexual situations, and limited adult language. Some animals will be killed, and human deaths will occur. Also, be aware that the three couples from the Treehouse, as I have written them in some 29 prior fics, remain together, now married. These are the Roxtons (John and Marguerite), the Challengers (George and Finn), and the Malones (Ned and Veronica). Not all of these persons were together romantically on the TV show, but my Fics are set past the Third Season. Thus, the "Canon" so revered by fanatical TLW purists can be best regarded as being a brand of American bath towel or Japanese camera. (Pretend that there's a winking Smilie here.) For those new to my fics, be aware that Finn cuts George's hair and trims his beard. So, he looks better than he does in the later seasons of the TV show. (That couple "clicks" better than some readers initially thought they might. Read, "Challenger's Birthday" or see my Profile to learn why G&F got together and what became of Jessie Challenger.) Some racial and cultural terms are those of that day, for authenticity and educational purposes and do not reflect the attitudes of any modern party. The Red Spitting Cobra is quite real, as are all other animals in my fics. Scientifically, it is called _Naja pallida_, and the reader is encouraged to look it up on Wikipedia, etc. and see its striking appearance.

By the time of this story, the explorers have been off of the Plateau for some time, although the Malones continue to live there. The Roxtons live at Roxton Manor in Avebury, and the Challengers have an estate in Kent, financed by George's inventions and Finn's novels, true adventure tales, and lecture tours. Both couples also keep London townhouses, and they frequently visit one another. The children have been left in London with their nannies and the Challenger butler during this adventure. NOTE: I do not practice any of the Dark Arts and the words spoken by Morrighan in this story are only an author's conception of what such words might be.

And now, our story! With luck, it will be even longer than this introduction! Chapter headings will break up the long text and provide stopping places for any who can't read the novelette in one sitting. This is a serious story, evocative of its thrilling times. I hope that you'll find it to be both informative and entertaining!

This fic is dedicated to jag389, who especially asked to see it and who has enjoyed my other safari-based stories.

**A Lion Comes!**

By

Gemini Explorer

Kenya Colony, British East Africa, 1929

Stuart Hamilton lay just below the crest of a hill, using his Zeiss 8X30 binocular to study a herd of impala some three hundred yards away. He decided that three of the rams were worth shooting, one having exceptional lyre - shaped horns. He turned to his client, lying next to him amidst the rocky clutter of the koppje, as such hills were locally known. "Want to have a go at that one four from the left, at the right of the herd?" he asked.

Finn Challenger had been watching the herd through her own binocular, the same make and size of her white hunter's. She had reached the same conclusion. Not only was the ram exceptional; they needed camp meat.

"Sure, "she agreed, carefully sliding her .275 Rigby rifle into position. It was loaded with John Rigby's patented bullets, the 140 grain High Velocity version. The rifle was fitted with a Hensoldt four-power telescopic sight, and she felt confident of making a clean kill from where she was. The afternoon was waning, and she had walked a good distance that day before finding this herd, with rams of true trophy quality, suitable for display on the wall of her and her mate's den in Kent. She also used photos of her hunting trophies in the slide shows and lectures that helped to finance their estate, along with the income from her brilliant husband's inventions.

Seeking a third opinion, she turned to her right, to Lord John Roxton, the XVIIIth Earl of Avebury. He, too, had his binocular up, as did his spouse, on his own right. "What do you think, Johnny?" she asked. "Shall I shoot this one, or wait?"

"It looks good to me, Finnykins," replied the tall hunter . "You probably won't see better on this trip. If you do, you have other impala on your license. And we need meat. Why don't you take that one, and Marguerite and I will each knock over another." With three couples in camp, plus their native "boys" and two professional white hunters, there was always a need for fresh meat. Three impala would last only a few days, although they planned to gun a waterhole tomorrow for francolin and for sand grouse. The need for protein was enhanced on this safari by the hunters bringing their wives, who were friends of the three client couples from an earlier trip.

"Let's shoot _something_! I'm tired of lying here in this heat," grumbled Marguerite Krux Roxton, now Lady Roxton for several years. "Finny, whack that one that you like. John, shoot anything but the one next to it, which will be my victim. Pity for it that we need groceries, eh? But I can taste that meat now. If anyone hears thunder, don't look up for rain. It'll just be my tummy snarling."

Roxton chuckled softly, as did Prof. George Challenger, crouching just a bit further below the crest of the hill. He was watching their backs, lest a snake or other intruder disturb them as they studied the herd. Such rocky outcroppings often hid not only reptiles, but scorpions.

"Marguerite, we have some sandwiches left on ice in the chop box," Hamilton reminded Lady Roxton. "Those should tide us over until the cook can have dinner ready. Look, everyone, I'll back Finn. If she wounds, I'll fire. But we need to shoot. That herd is growing edgy."

As he spoke, there came a nasty rattle that everyone knew was the voice of a leopard somewhere in the rocks. It had probably come to scan the savannah below, for the same purpose as they had. Now, sensing humans, it had expressed displeasure.

"Shoot!" breathed Hamilton. "The shots will scare off His Leopardness If not, George, have your gun ready. I don't fancy an angry cat getting in among us."

Challenger nodded and the others raised their rifles to their eyes. They were just in time. The antelope had also heard the cough of the leopard, and were tensed to flee, listening intently. The three shots rang out almost as one, and two antelope went down. Roxton's target moved just as he shot, and the bullet struck too far back. Hamilton fired as Roxton cycled his rifle's bolt for another shot, and the wounded impala collapsed.

"Right," said the white hunter. "Three's enough for now. We'll shoot enough birds tomorrow that we won't need more meat for a few days. Let's reload and get down there before lions or hyenas try to claim our meat."

They did as he suggested, filing down carefully off of the koppje. They stayed alert, unsure of where the leopard had gone. And they remained on the lookout for snakes and other threats. Indeed, they saw a serpent slither rapidly off and go under some rocks to their left as they descended.

"Red spitting cobra," commented Hamilton. "Let's get clear of it before it decides to try for our eyes. George, have your shotgun ready. I don't half fancy trying to hit it with a single rifle bullet if it comes after us. "

"What a lovely sort of coral color," observed Challenger, who had seen the snake.

"I don't care how pretty it is, Genius, you leave it alone!" Finn was concerned that her husband would try to capture it. His scientific curiosity frightened her at times.

"Very well, Darling. I suppose that you know best in this instance," Challenger sounded disappointed, but he knew full well the wisdom of Finn's concern. Advances in science always had to be tempered with prudence, and he knew better than to exceed reasonable limits. He recalled a parallel situation on the Plateau when she had given a similar admonition, about a new subspecies of tropical rattlesnake. But she had later offered to help him catch one if he really thought it was worth the risk to them and to their companions. Finn had been sincere, but of course, he had told her that she and the others were too precious. And they were, something that he had come to realize after spending a year or so in that dreadful place. He still loved science, but not as much as he loved Finn and the two other couples in their group.

Now, Finn felt bad about speaking to him as she had. The need had been there, just in case, but the tone…She was embarrassed to have been heard speaking to her husband so abruptly, her motive having been more one of concern than of real anger.

She held in her reaction until they were safely off of the hill, headed for the vehicles that awaited them below. Then she walked over and apologized, citing her fear of snakes, which was very real. She had seen men die of their bites, and they had had two close calls with them on their safari last year. Had Ned Malone not been handy and carrying his 12 gauge Winchester, a black mamba might have ended both of the Challengers' lives. She shuddered, remembering.

Challenger reached out a big hand and squeezed her shoulder to tell her that it was all right. And that would have ended the matter, except that Marguerite told Diana Hamilton, nee Hardy, who had waited with the car and the gun bearers. But her droll account caused Diana not to laugh at Challenger, but to seek a solution.

"Can't Veronica paint a red cobra for the professor, if Daddy lets her study the skin of the one on his den wall? Everyone knows about how they look when they rear up. It's just a question of getting the right colors for this species. But you were right to pass on capturing a live specimen, Professor. They lean back and spit, right for your eyes. I've seen Africans go blind from it, if someone wasn't at hand to wash their eyes out straightaway. They'll bite, too, of course, but they prefer long range work, if they've the time for it."

"Splendid idea, Diana," enthused Lord Roxton. "Veronica is a very talented artist. I'm sure that she'll paint the right background, too. Now, we'd best get around and collect our game. I saw a pair of cheetahs in the distance. They may want to swipe our groceries."

They boarded the two hunting cars, motored around the hill, and found the fallen antelope. The big ram that Finn wanted for her den had dropped instantly to her shot, which Hamilton pointed out had been at rather long range for Kenya. "We don't often shoot beyond a couple of hundred yards here. It isn't like the American West or the veldt where Geoff grew up." Geoff Blacklaws, their other hunter, was a South African who had moved to Kenya only after the Great War.

Moses, Finn's gunbearer, pointed with pride to the bullet hole in the animal. "_Piga m'zuri sana, Mem'Sahib_!" he exclaimed with pride. And it had indeed been a very good shot. It was not for nothing that Finn Challenger was called Mem'Sahib Bunduki among the African staff. Lady Gun. She was the only female safari client whom they had met who insisted on cleaning some of her own guns. And she went over those cleaned by Moses and his peers with an eagle eye. Finn loved fine guns, one of the best days in her life having been when she had replaced her crossbow on the Plateau with firearms taken from a group of dead slavers. When her husband and Roxton had taken her to place orders with some of the finest gunmakers in Britain, she had felt like the proverbial kid in a candy store. Her near- sister Marguerite Roxton sometimes still teased her about it, having wryly designated her man and Finn as The Gun People. On the hunt, she sometimes also called them Orion and Diana. Or, had until their new friend had responded when she'd mentioned the goddess of the hunt. Diana Hardy, now Diana Hamilton, had been amused.

One of the skinners drew his knife and gestured to the animals. "_Hallal?"_ he asked making throat-cutting motions. Hamilton told him to go ahead and cut the throats of the smaller impala, but to leave Finn's trophy ram alone. She would need the skin undamaged for a proper mount. The others could provide meat for the safari "boys" who were Muslim, and needed to dine on meat that had been slain with the knife. Often, the ritual was just that, the animals having already succumbed to a bullet. But as long as the motions were complied with, the men overlooked the strict observance of whether the Hallal stroke was performed on a dead beast. Meat was the object of the hunt, more than religious observance.

The impala having been field dressed ("gralloched" to UK readers), the group started out for camp, some ten miles distant. Sandwiches were passed around, for Marguerite wasn't the only one to feel hunger. Lunch had been early, and they had hunted hard, often at some distance from the cars. In fact, it was actually illegal to shoot from a car. Not sporting, old boy. Just not done, you know, not by decent chaps…

Marguerite retrieved two beers from an iced bag on the outside of the truck and passed one to Roxton. The others shook their heads, content with water. Dinner was likely to begin with a Scotch or a gin and tonic, with white, then red wine as the meal was served. "I'm getting an early start on an alcoholic evening," she quipped." If I swill enough happy juice, Roxton here will probably get to have his way with me tonight. He enjoys that. Men are so easy to please!" And she jabbed her spouse with a playful elbow, smiling in anticipation of his blush.

Roxton rolled his eyes, and sipped the Castle lager that she passed him. "Don't anyone get the wrong impression," he teased. "I don't have to be drunk to make a pass at Marguerite. In fact, she's fairly attractive, in the right light." That produced general laughter, even from his mate, although she stuck out her tongue at him.

Soon, camp was in sight, and they saw that Blacklaws and the Malones were back, with Blacklaws's wife, the former Holly Deleterre. They were quite proud of a lesser kudu antelope that Ned Malone had knocked over with his sporting rifle, based on the US Springfield .30/06 action. It was a beautiful trophy, and the meat would last them the rest of the week, with the impala that the other hunting crew had collected.

Finn approached Veronica with the idea of painting a red spitting cobra for the Challenger home, and the Anglo-Brazilian blonde readily consented. One reason why she came on safari was to set up her easel and paint wildlife. It was soothing and creative, and she relished doing it.

Finn beamed, her features seeming to shine from within. "Thanks, Vee! That should keep the Genius happy and out of trouble." She hugged her pal, winking at her amused husband.

Now, Veronica lay back in their canvas camp tub, watching Ned watching her. But she glanced quickly to be sure that her Smith & Wesson .38, the same Military & Police Model with a five-inch barrel that Finn wore, was on a cushion within reach. Neither she nor Ned went anywhere without their pistols, and Veronica wore a knife in her boot, as she did at home in Amazonia. At her insistence, armed guards kept watch all night. She felt as secure as she ever would in this wild land, and Ned had coaxed her into enjoying their stay here, among such dear friends, old and new. She had finally come to look forward to each day, instead of hoping that their time on safari would pass quickly.

But she would never relax in a canvas camp tub half so much as she did when in the home of her friends the Hamiltons, or at Angus Hardy's estate, where they had been guests two nights before.

Ned saw her gaze flick to the revolver and he took her face in both hands and kissed her. "It's okay, Baby," he said. "That's behind us. That was last year. This safari is going to be all fun, trust me."

"Why?" she teased. "Are you a politician now, Neddy? They're the only ones who ask people to trust them." She laughed softly, took hold of his shirt collar, and leaned him over where her mouth could reach his.

When he came up for air, Ned said, "No, I'm still a writer. Published author now, too. But you can trust me. I hope you know that, Veronica." He liked saying her name. It was more musical to his ears than a great symphony orchestra playing the best of Bach or Beethoven. On a whim, he said so.

"Oh, Ned," she murmured. "That is so totally sweet! You almost have me believing it. You're good, Buster, whether you're speaking words or typing them! But you don't have to lay it on so thick, Neddy. Let me give you a clue: for you, tonight, and for all time until the sun burns out, I'm a sure thing. Especially now that I'm enjoying this trip a lot more than I'd expected. It took a week or more, but I think I'm glad that we came. Look, why don't you join me in here? We have plenty of warm water to rinse with. I checked the reservoir before I undressed. It was full."

He blushed, for Ned was still somewhat shy. Never the ladies' man that Roxton represented, or the supremely confident scientist that George Challenger was, he still marveled that Veronica had agreed to be his. But the joy of their union and once- repressed lust had eased his modesty. Now, he noticed his heart racing. "Okay," he agreed, "but lets' hurry. Marguerite's relatives are coming to dinner. I heard Geoff tell her and John when we came in tonight. They may be here at almost any time."

Lord and Lady Lindemere, Marguerite's half brother and his wife, had agreed the previous autumn to join the Roxtons and the Challengers on safari in the next year. (See the Fic, "Murder in a Stately Mansion".) True to their promise, they had come, but had hired a different hunter, allowing the former Treehouse couples space to themselves. Moreover, the Lindemeres would stay on for two added weeks. The Malones had only recently met them, not being present when Marguerite had been notified of her true identity and impressive inheritance.

Now, the only remaining Treehouse couple wanted to give a good impression of themselves to the Lindemeres. So, it was to their considerable embarrassment that they turned over the portable bath tub!

It had happened easily enough, beginning when Ned had entered the tub with his wife, and they had begun exploring one another's' bodies. What had opened with slow kissing and his tweaking of Veronica's stiff, engorged nipples had led to impassioned groping, heavy breathing, and other things from which we will shield any easily shocked readers.

Time had gotten away from them, and then, without warning, the tub had turned over as Veronica lurched sideways, giggling furiously as she sought to avoid being tickled by Ned.

Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink, unless one counted the canteens that they had left on a camp stool just inside the door. And no one was counting canteens just then…

Those outside heard the noise that the accident created. Blacklaws and his wife, followed by Finn Challenger, ran over as the gush of water rushed out through the canvas floor of the bath tent. Thankfully, the tent was well beyond those in which they slept, and no real harm was done.

"I say, is everything all right in there?" called the white hunter, as his mate stood with a shocked hand to her desirable mouth.

"Vee! Ned! Are you guys decent? What the hell is going on?" And Mrs. Challenger stuck her head in the door, sliding a flap aside to see if her friends were safe.

She saw the nude Malones struggling free of the confines of the tub, helping one another to stand and take stock of their clothing and gear. Blessedly, the tub had crashed over on the side of the tent opposite their belongings, and the only thing hurt was their dignity.

"Do you mind, Finny?" snapped Veronica. "We'll rinse and be out in a moment. We're all right." She waved her hands to urge her best friend to leave her and Ned to themselves. "Finn, wait!" she added. "Our towels got wet. Can you bring some?"

A grinning Finn agreed. "Don't you two do anything too physical in there until I get back," she warned. "You just scared the camp worse than a Gaboon viper under the table would!" Laughing, she went for the towels, taking Challenger, who had rushed over to help. That couple then knocked on the wall of the next bath tent as they passed, startling the Roxtons and urging them to wash and dress. Company was coming!

XXX

Charles Tremayne, Lord Lindemere, and his wife Felicity were soon there, with their white hunter, Roger Davenport. Davenport knew the other hunters and they had a happy reunion as their clients mixed, greeting one another with pleasure.

Charles Tremayne was Marguerite Krux Roxton's half brother, whom she had met the previous year while attending the reading of their late father's will and distribution of his very considerable assets. Marguerite had inherited 100,000 pounds, a very nice sum, indeed. In those days, it was a fortune.

Roxton had teased Marguerite about that, asking if she meant to leave him, now that she had money of her own. "No," she saucily replied. "I still need you to wash my back and bring me breakfast in bed occasionally You have your uses..."

On a more somber note, Tremayne's sister and her husband and two other men who had been in cahoots with them in conspiring to kill Marguerite had died. One was shot, and the rest perished in a fiery car crash. Another man, a separate plotter, had been found at the base of a staircase with his neck broken. Two of the other group had been responsible for that, after he had planted a cobra in John and Marguerite's room.

Now, Marguerite, who had discovered the snake as she left the bath tub, associated snakes with bathing, and especially so here in Africa, where several species of cobras naturally occurred. She made her spouse sit with a gun by the canvas tub as she bathed.

And she wasn't amused when he joked about that!

The fear of snakes in camp wasn't unreasonable, for the previous year, Finn had used her .38 to kill a puff adder that had gotten under the breakfast table before being seen.

Lord Lindemere greeted Susan Wilson, Finn's secretary, with enthusiasm, not entirely because Susan was blonde and very attractive. Indeed, she was so lovely that she had been kidnapped for sale as a slave to one of the most powerful Arab rulers, the (now late) Sultan of Amarrah. Susan had met the Challengers and the Roxtons when they had rescued her and other women, including Veronica Malone. (See, "On Safari", on this board.)

Susan was very zealous about serving Finn Challenger well, for she heroine worshipped her. To this end, she had begun developing film, to check that her photos of their adventures were as they should be, while she might be able to take better pictures, if needed. Finn's books offered considerable photographic sections, and Susan now took many of the images. Lindemere was also an enthusiastic photographer, and he was soon in deep conversation with Susan. Felicity settled in with Marguerite and John, and each couple updated the other on their doings.

The Lindemeres soon heard of the Malone bath tub misfortune, which all in camp other than Ned and Veronica seemed to think was quite funny. Lindemere consoled Ned, saying that at least he had been with one of the loveliest women in the universe when it happened. Veronica blushed and thanked him. "I see that you have Ned's way with words, Your Lordship." The Brazilian beauty had learned from Marguerite how to address the British nobility. Lady Roxton was, after all, one of them, married to an Earl, at that!

Veronica, Susan, and Finn wore light blue short- sleeved shirts and tan shorts as brief as custom allowed, on the daring side. Finn had these shorts made by a firm in London, although they were mildly scandalized at the brevity. They were, of course, considerably longer than the black ones that Finn had worn in New Amazonia, in what now seemed a lifetime ago. She wore those now only on rare occasions, at home, when the servants had the night off. Her husband sometimes requested this, being sentimental about her appearance in them and the accompanying cropped top. But something about the way she looked in that outfit often led to him seeing her in less!

Finn looked at Susan in the tan shorts, recalled her black ones, and blushed scarlet as she caught Challenger's eye and remembered his fondness for those.

Asked whether she was well, she hastily said that she was just excited over the fine impala ram that she had shot, and led Charles, Felicity, and Roger Davenport back to the skinners' tent to view it. They were suitably impressed, Davenport congratulating Hamilton on finding such a fine impala for his client..

"I still want a buffalo as big as that one on your wall near the stairs, Charles," Finn noted.

She knew that her chances were good, for he had shot that huge bull barely 15 miles from where they now stood.

"The Genius can study the ticks on it, if I shoot one," joked Finn, running an affectionate hand down her husband's arm. I just want the rest!"

Everyone laughed as they returned to the chairs arranged in a circle, and gave their drink orders to the personal boys. The Lindemeres were eager to get to know the Malones, who had not been in England when Marguerite had been notified of her birthright and gone to meet her siblings.

By the time that they rearranged their chairs around the long table, Veronica squeezed Ned's hand and said, "Neddy, thanks for talking me into coming back here. I'm beginning to really enjoy this place!"

She liked it even better as the boys served antelope steaks with potatoes and carrots, with canned/tinned pineapple slices and a selection of fine wines. Charles and Felicity had brought several bottles of Bordeaux's best as a hostess gift. Marguerite had cheerfully designated herself as hostess and accepted them, to Holly Deleterre Blacklaws's mild pique. Holly was slightly pretentious, and had assumed that she was camp hostess. Her close friend Diana Hamilton noticed, and whispered to her that they had to humor the clients. "That's where the money is, Honey," she joked, and Holly smiled again.

Following the excellent repast, the couples sat with glasses in hand as the men told hunting stories and the women discussed fashions, pausing to ooh and aaah when their men told an especially exciting episode. Holly was a little in awe of her husband, a well known hunter who had had some close scrapes with dangerous game. Like Finn Challenger, Holly half worshipped her mate, who she felt was her main rescuer from the slavers of the previous year. Holly hadn't even been freed of her chains before she had begun scheming to get Blacklaws to reconsider his bachelorhood…

Diana Hardy Hamilton noticed the way that Holly looked at Geoff and leaned over on her own husband's shoulder. He put an arm around her, and the couple soon announced that they needed to retire for the night. "Big day tomorrow," said Hamilton. "We have to prepare a leopard blind before we shoot birds in the afternoon." And he and Diana strolled off, hand-in-hand.

The others lingered briefly, to hear another hunting tale or two and to assure the expedition that they would indeed see big buffalo and trophy class Greater Kudu soon.

On that note, the white couples adjourned, for dawn and the personal boys coming to their tents with tea would seem all too soon. As they wandered off, Blacklaws called to Roxton, "John, take care tomorrow. This area is known for man-eaters, lions, I mean. "Even Mem'Sahib Bunduki there might find them a little daunting."

Finn turned and stuck out her tongue at him, to general laughter. But later, as they lay in bed, she confessed to Challenger that she was concerned. "What if we meet a man-eater and I mess up? Those things are dangerous, Genius! And they may come into camp. I put your .450 by your side of the bed. I just hope that we won't need it. These tents wouldn't provide much protection if a lion really wanted in."

He hugged her. "Not to worry, Darling. They've probably heard of the famous Mem'Sahib Bunduki, and will give us a wide berth. If not, Marguerite will give any errant lion a piece of her mind. That should frighten any animal!" He seemed to think this was funny, and Finn smiled, herself. But she had trouble drifting off to sleep, even after snuggling into her favorite spoons position in front of her man, which usually soothed her and made her feel secure and content. Finn knew that a charging lion covers a hundred yards in about six seconds, and they often charged from much closer. She shivered and pulled George's arm around her waist before she slept. And she reached over the side of the camp bed to touch her Holland & Holland .375 Magnum for reassurance. Mem'Sahib Bunduki was a bold huntress and a fine shot. But she was also a woman, and she worried like one.

CHAPTER TWO

Dawn came, with the inevitable soft scratching at the door of the tent, and personal boy Jonas's cheerful, "_Bwana, Mem'Sahib, mimi lette chai."_ ("I bring tea.")And the fragrance of the teapot stirred the Challengers.

Finn, nude save for brief black bikini panties, wrapped a blanket around her. Her husband shrugged into his robe before opening the flap for Jonas to enter and set the tea tray on a camp table.

They sat by the tray, Finn noting Challenger's robe, which was dark green with maroon stripes edged in gold. She had bought it for him in Harrod's the month before they had left on the ship for Kenya. It was a thick, luxurious fabric, and she loved snuggling next to him in it. She called it his robe of many colors, after the Biblical one.

"You look very distinguished, Genius. Did you pick out that robe on your own?" she teased.

He kissed her, pulled her hair, and told her that his wife had chosen it. "She has exquisite taste," he admitted. "Especially in men."

Finn giggled. She fondled his arm,. liking the texture and the appearance. She sugared their tea, knowing to laboratory precision how sweet he wanted his. Finn took great pride in trying to be the perfect wife, and was often rewarded by her husband telling her that she was just that. It warmed her heart every time he told her, though. She found it the vocal equivalent of him putting her on that wooden pedestal that he still kept for her in their bedroom. If it had become almost a standing joke between them, she still stirred inside when her powerful man lifted her onto that platform, praising some clever or considerate thing that she had done. Finn felt very fortunate to be where she was, and she often prayed her thanks for it and for her beloved Genius.

They turned as they heard Marguerite Roxton's voice from the next tent over. "Bloody hell! I don't want any perishing tea! What I want is three more hours of sleep!"

Finn's pet name among the African staff was Mem'Sahib Bunduki, for her love of guns. Marguerite's name was Mem'Sahib Kifaru, for her morning temper resembling that of a rhino!

They heard Veronica, on their other side, call, "Zip it, Marguerite! If I have to get up, you have to get up!"

"Think about that, you blonde wench!" Marguerite yelled back. "If you sleep another three hours, so can I, and we'll both be delighted to greet the remains of the day!"

They heard John Roxton's and Ned Malone's quieter voices, probably telling their women to act like ladies, even at this hour, with the sun just brightening the top of the long grass.

The Challengers looked at one another and smiled. Their friends often amused them at such times. Finn leaned over and rubbed noses with her mate. "Never mind them, George," she laughed. "They really love being here. Not as much as I do, but they love it. They'll mellow when they get some tea into them. In the meantime, you can be glad that you married me, not Marguerite or Vee."

Challenger shrugged, a twinkle in his eye. "Nothing new about that, Darling. I am eternally grateful that it was you whom I married. I deserve a woman like you, being the eminent scientist and handsome fellow that I am."

Soon, all the whites assembled for breakfast. Coffee and the succulent aroma of venison steaks and scrambled eggs brightened even Marguerite's disposition. Asked by Geoff Blacklaws if she felt well, she muttered, "Maybe. I'm still deciding. Have you found any snakes under the table?"

No snakes being present, she acccepted the chair that her patient husband gallantly pulled out for her, and actually smiled as she saw a servant pouring coffee.

"So, what are we doing today? I want to sunbathe. Mem'Sahib Bunduki, Veronica, and the men can shoot whatever animals can't run fast enough or hide well enough. George can run his traps and study the eyeballs of any new mice that he finds. I say, Holly, Diana? Would you two like to join me in lolling about camp and playing cards while we indulge in girl talk?"

But it developed that the Kenya girls wanted to join their men and see what they did on safari. Finn said that she'd stay with Marguerite, leaving space in the safari cars for the others. "I'll go out and shoot birds later today," she offered. "Susan?"

"I'm staying with you ma'am," replied her secretary. "You may need me to record it with my camera if you beat Lady Roxton at cards."

"Ha!" exclaimed Marguerite. "Like that will happen! Your boss is blonde like you, Susan. But I'd love to have you ladies here, if you'll stay. I really do feel rather lethargic this morning. By lunch, I'll feel like getting my shotguns and assassinating some of those doves that woke me ."

And so it was agreed that Marguerite, Finn, and Susan Wilson would remain in camp. Challenger waffled a bit over leaving his wife "alone", but she reminded him that he needed to check the night's traps. So, it became Ladies' Day in camp!

The cars were soon loaded, supplies including such items as guns, water, lunch, and first aid equipment. The gunbearers went in a third vehicle, with additional gear, but the skinners and other camp staff stayed behind. They and other trophy preperation workers would complete what they had begun on the lesser kudu and the impalas of the day before, the meat having already been taken to the tent set aside for that purpose.

Finn and Marguerite kissed their men goodbye, and Susan embraced Holly, with whom she had briefly been a slave girl on their way to be sold.

"Good hunting, Genius. I hope you find some new mice or something in those traps," said Finn. Challenger ruffled her hair tenderly in reply, and they listened to a pithy exchange between the Roxtons that made some blush. Then, the cars were gone, and the women had the camp to themselves.

"I don't know about you two, but I want to sunbathe," declared Marguerite. "We can have the personal boys raise a sort of tent without a top to shield us from their prying eyes, and still have the sun on us."

This was soon done, although Susan protested that she had not brought a swimsuit, inasmuch as she had been told that African waters were unsafe for swimming.. The other women laughed, telling her that they also had no swimsuits.

"But that's all right," Marguerite explained, "for Finny and I also have no shame, at least between us girls. Leave your undies on if you're shy, Susan. But they'll leave white lines on your body if you sunbathe often." She called out for refreshments to be brought, with a small table and some lounge chairs for them to stretch out on. The ladies made a point of putting their revolvers close to hand, and Finn brought in her .375 H&H rifle. "All the comforts of home," Marguerite noted sarcastically. Joseph brought in a tray of drinks, after which Marguerite tied the door to the structrure shut and she and Finn stripped to their sandals and earrings, adding sunglasses.

They were soon playing cards and talking about all the things which women find to talk about. Susan retaned only her bra and panties, but was too shy to remove those. "Don't your husbands see your tans and know that you took the sun while nude?" she wondered. "Actually, it seems that I should be the one naked, for no one but us would know. But your men…"

Marguerite laughed and sipped her gin and tonic. "John will see tan lines if we do this much, but if he comments, he will just leer and wink. As long as we stay private, nothing much upsets him. Finn, Veronica, and I have swum nude and sunbathed together for years. Ned used to blush a little when he knew about it, but he's long over that. Now, I think he just tries to imagine what we must look like while doing it. George has even given up razzing Finny for it. He just tells her how good she looks. But he does that whether she has a tan ot not. Stop smirking, Nicole. I saw that!" (Finn's real first name was Nicole; her nickname being derived from Finnegan, her maiden last name.)

Susan smiled, knowing full well how affectionate the Challengers were. "I hope that someday, I will have a man who worships me as much as the professsor does you, ma'am," she said, to Finn's pleasure.

Marguerite snorted. She stretched out on her back, allowing the sun to reach her full length, her trim body bared to its rays and the eyes of her companions "Susan, Finn also worships George. We used to tease them about it in the Treehouse. She even buttered his bread for him! Those two are a mutual admiration society. They should sell tickets to other married couples to let them watch the Challengers and learn the key to a happy union!"

Susan smiled and said, "But you and His Lordship also seem happy, ma'am."

"True," conceded Lady Roxton. "We're more 'snarky' as Finny terms it, but we love each other. I'd be hard put to find another man so worthy of the name as is John Roxton. But you'll find a man, Susan. Girls with your looks don't wither on the vine! Especially not the blondes!" Susan blushed, flattered by the unexpected expert appraisal.

Marguerite sat up and laid her cards on the table. "Aha! Three kings! All right, girls, let's see them. I sense a win here. Finny, are your boobs bigger since I last viewed them? "

Finn nodded. "Just a little. I had another baby since you last saw the 'girls'. But there wasn't as much gain as after the first kid. Arthur's arrival unwittingly gave his mom a needed boost in that area." She smiled, pleased that Marguerite had noticed. Finn had once been sensitive about her relatively small bust, although she had more there than usually showed under her black top in Treehouse days. It had taken her some time to see Marguerite nude and realize that their breasts were really quite similar. Marguerite was just skilled at using padded bustiers and camisoles to make the most of her equipment.

"Do you really think that I should expose my breasts to the sun?" asked Susan. She was proud of her pair, but still reluctant about stripping, even among women whom she knew well. Especially as one was of the nobility, and the other, a wealthy gentlewoman and her employer… Finn was also her heroine, adding to her shyness.

Finn shrugged. "Sure, go ahead. I saw your boobs when we rescued you, Susan. You have a nice set. You were probably too stressed out to notice, but the boys were pretty taken with your whole body. That's the only upside to female slavery: you know you look good when they stare like that while you're naked, chained so that you're totally exposed! Hell, that's how Holly caught Geoff. He damn sure liked what he saw!"

Marguerite muffled a laugh, sipping again from her drink. Then, all three ladies sat upright, listening. There were raised voices at the edge of camp, excited Africans….

Finn passed Marguerite her knickers, as the British call panties, and quickly shrugged into her own, the black ones that she had changed into after her shower the previous evening. Both other girls wore lacy white lingerie, which they quickly covered as they fumbled for their clothes.

Susan stood by the tied entrance of the structure, buckling on her gun belt as she strained to hear what was being said. The voices were sometimes raised, sometimes normal. Having lived for several years in Kenya, she spoke fair Swahili.

Marguerite joined her, moving over a stool to sit on as she pulled on her boots. Her lavendar blouse and khaki skirt were already donned, and she wore the brown Akubra slouch hat that she preferred to a sun helmet.

Snatches of conversation drifted back to them on the breeze. They heard, "_simba"._ Lion. And they heard, "_manamouki_", which meant women.  
Finn anxiously tied her _veldtschoen_, ankle-high safari boots that she wore with tall tan socks. Like Susan, she wore a short-sleeved blue shirt and khaki shorts.

They heard footsteps approach the topless tent. "Mem'Sahib Marguerite?" inquired Joseph, Blacklaws's black headman, who ran his African staff. Joseph spoke some English, and Marguerite spoke many languages. Soon, the story emerged.

"Mem'Sahib, this man" – he gestured to a warrior standing by him- "says that he has come to speak to Bwana Backlaws. He says that a lion comes. A very bad lion, which eats people, as other lions eat zebra and antelope. This very bad lion is now eating his senior wife. He asks for help. But I have told him that, of course, there is no help here. The Bwanas have all gone. They will not return for hours,. By then, the lion that eats his wife will have finished its meal and gone away. So, I will send him away. He understands now that only white women are here. No Bwanas. I have sorrow if his yellings have distubed your sunning bath. Mem'Sahibs please go back to sunning and talking. Are you wishing for more drinks?"

Margurite glanced at her friends to be sure that all had finished dressing. They had, and Finn stood to the side of the door, rifle in hand as she followed the conversation.

Marguerite opened the tent flap and looked at the visitor. He wore an orange cloak of Americani trade cloth and the head ring of an elder of his tribe. Marguerite had seen such rings on the Zulu, but not on any tribes this far north. Still, she knew its purpose, confirmed by his gray hair and the shorter blade on his spear. Younger warriors, _elmorani, _carried spears with blades longer in proportion to the handle. This was the practice of the Masai, and she suspected, of similar tribes like the Nandi and the Lumbwa.

"Sit, _m'zee_, old man, honored among your people, and tell us whence you came. How are your kind called? Joseph, bring this man some water. He looks all -in. He must have run for miles." Marguerite reached into the "tent" and produced the stool on which she had donned her boots, offering it to the visitor.

The old man was dumbfounded. He was unused to being treated so well by whites. Indeed, he saw almost none. But he sat, and accepted a gourd of water.

"Mem'Sahib, I come from a people called N'juba. (Fictional.) My village is as far as when the sun moves so." And he ran a finger across the sky. Marguerite thought this must be about two to three miles in English measurement. The sun would not move much in the time that it took to drive that distance.

"Can you lead us to your village, so that we can shoot this bad lion?" she asked.

Joseph was alarmed. "No, Mem'Sahib! Mem'Sahibs must not do this! Bwanas will be very angry with wives and with me. Lions are very dangerous. If this one kills you, I will be blamed."

Marguerite understood his concern, and told him that Finn and she would write notes to their husbands, absolving him of blame. "We are both going, aren't we, Finny?"

Finn looked somber, but nodded. "Lions scare me, Marguerite. But it'll be a blast to have done, if we succeed. And I want a good story for my next book. Susan, you stay here, and tell the others where we went, and give George and Johnny our notes."

"No, ma'am. I mean Finn." Susan flushed. Finn had often told her to call her by her first name. Usually, she replied, "Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Challenger. I'll try to remember that." It had become almost a standing joke between Susan and the Challengers.

"I can't let you and Lady Roxton do this on your own. Joseph can give the men your notes. Anyway, I've never shot a lion. Maybe this is my chance. And you'll need me to photograph what happens." She looked pleadingly at Finn.

Finn relented and told Susan to get her rifle. She ordered Joseph to pack a quick lunch and see that water bags were in the car. Then, she and Marguerite scrambled to their tents for what essentials they would need. Marguerite also took her gunbearer, a Kikuyu named Jerogi. Susan, of course, took her Leica and several rolls of film.

Joseph accepted the notes from the women with anguish on his black face. "May Allah bless you, Mem'Sahibs," he offered. "_Kwaheri."_ He raised a hand in what he hoped would not be a final farewell.

Marguerite started the car, loaded in the old man, and they were off. Their guide said that he was named M'fumi, and that he thought the lion had arrived in his village about one and a half hours before. He held tightly onto an upright bar in the car, praying loudly to N'Gai that he would not die during this fast ride in the white womens' devil machine that flew like the wind. Marguerite drove as fast as she could, where she didn't have to be cautious of antbear holes and other obstacles that might break an axle.

In about half an hour, they saw the N'juba village ahead. M'fumi told the women that his senior wife had been working in a sweet potato field when the lion had taken her. The body was carried beyond the village about 500 yards, where the cat had settled down to its meal. The few people who ventured near were warned off with roars that made it clear that it was determined to eat the woman. This was not a lion that could be frightened from his meal.

Jerogi questioned the old man in his own language, and Marguerite followed the directions that he gleaned. She stopped the car near where M'fumi said that the lion had fed on his woman. The tall grass, interspersed with thornbush, could have concealed a dozen lions. But M'fumi and a man who came running out from the village told the ladies that the body was at the foot of a particular tree that they could recognize from its having been hit by lightning in a storm several months earlier.

As Marguerite talked to the newcomer, Finn vacillated over her choice of rifle. She decided on the Jeffery .450/.400, a double-barreled beauty that was balanced like a fine shotgun, although it was much heavier. She hung her Zeiss 8X30 binocular around her neck, and put spare ammunition in the loops on her canvas vest. Susan readied herself similarly, although her rifle was a bolt-action .275 from John Rigby & Sons, fitted with a 4X Hensoldt telescopic sight like that on Finn's lighter rifle, with which she had taken the impala earlier.

Finn saw Susan admiring the fine walnut stock on the .275, and suggested that she take her iron-sighted .303 instead. "If we get into that thick bush and the lion comes fast, you'll never find him in that 'scope," she warned.

Susan blushed and changed rifles. Then, she hung the Leica on her neck and they were ready. Marguerite chose her .375 H&H Magnum. Like Finn's .375, it had been made to her measure, and swung and pointed well. She could use it instinctively, and had practiced with it in England before their trip began. It was the heaviest-recoiling rifle that she owned, her husband's .416 and larger calibers making her flinch too easily as she fired.

Roxton had told her that a well placed .375 bullet was better than a .500 Nitro Express that was off target because she jerked the trigger or flinched as she fired. And she knew that the .375 was one of the most popular calibers for lion among both professionals and safari clients.

The girls drank from their canteens, shook hands, and decided that Marguerite would walk on the left, Finn to her right. Susan would follow, watching their rear. Jerogi would follow Susan, with water and a first aid kit. He would carry Susan's 'scope-sighted .275, on the off chance that they saw the lion at distance, when the optical sight might be needed.

They found a footpath leading toward the tree, and followed it. It narrowed at times to three or four feet, forcing the women and Jerogi to walk single-file. Finn and Susan had to be careful lest the thornbush scrape their bare legs. Fortunately, in these places, the bush, including the nasty wait-a-bit thorn, was so dense that a lion would not be lying in wait within.

Finally, the trail opened, and Marguerite and Finn resumed walking beside one another.

The pace was slow, Finn whispering to the less experienced Marguerite that they needed to walk a few steps, then pause and listen. Marguerite was shocked to see Finn also turning her head, sniffing the breeze. She wanted to tell her to quit acting like some female Tarzan, but decided that there might be something to this. She had heard the white hunters mention in camp that lions have a distinct, acrid, odor. She remembered this smell from the zoo, now that she thought of it. She knew that Finn became almost feral on the hunt, something that had impressed her husband, who had seen this often. Until now, Marguerite had thought that John was exaggerating when he told her of Finn's being so attuned to the wild. Now, she shivered as she conceded that her close friend was so integral to this environment.

Finn soon stopped, motioning to the lightning-struck tree. Now, even Marguerite smelled lion, but faintly. She also smelled death. Rotting flesh and blood. Heard flies...

They advanced a step at a time, nerves primed to shoot on a second's notice. Both had switched the safeties on their rifles to "off."

The remains of the victim lay just to the left of the tree, with no lion in sight. They walked cautiously over, until Finn saw tracks leading away into the bush.

What was left of the woman was a head, the sightless eyes staring open, reflecting the horror that must have been the final thing that she had experienced. Many of the bones had been chewed to the point of splintering. The feet had been chewed off and discarded, although the soles had been licked clean of meat by the lion's raspy tongue.

Marguerite walked over to the left of the small clearing and retched into the thorn scrub. Finn sat down, holding her head between her knees until she could control herself.

Susan hung back a bit, keeping her rifle ready until her comrades were able to get hold of themselves. They called Jerogi forward and drank, Marguerite rinsing out her mouth before she took enough water to wash the bile from her throat.

Susan recorded the pitiful scene, hardly able to avoid vomiting as she did. Nevertheless, she held still as she worked the shutter, taking a fine focus on the carnage. She wanted readers to know the chances that her boss took and the daring that she showed in living what would become her books. And she wanted the British and American public to know just how grim it was to encounter a man-eater; why they spread such terror.

They scouted for the way the tracks led, but they soon disappeared on stony ground. Finn reminded her friends to be very alert on the way back to the car. They took a different route than they had come, shorter. But the lion might be anywhere, and still hungry.

They were loading their gear and themselves into the hunting car, using wet rags to wipe off their perspiration, when Marguerite saw a man running out from the village, some six hundred yards off. She swung up her binocular and saw at once why he was probably running to them. A lioness was trying to tear down the door of a hut! No sooner had she seen this than they heard roars and growls.

All piled into the car and Finn drove to within 150 yards. They bailed out, checking rifles. The native confirmed that the lioness was indeed why he was running to them, and they fanned out, three abreast. Finn took the .400 again, thinking that its two quick shots without having to operate a bolt to reload might be vital in close quarters or in case of a charge.

The big cat saw them and advanced, growling and twitching its tail. At the 75 yard mark, Marguerite fired, the slam of the .375 into her shoulder socket making her hope that she had hurt the lioness more than the hard-kicking rifle had hurt her. I fully intend to blame Roxton for not being here and doing this instead of me, she mused. Men are so handy when you want to place blame…

The bullet zinged just over the cat's back, triggering a charge. A terrified Marguerite fumbled with the bolt, trying to eject the fired cartridge case and chamber a fresh round.

Finn let the animal get to thirty yards, and then broke its right shoulder with a bullet from her .400. The cat tumbled and rolled, then rose with a fearsome roar and lethal intent.

Her second barrel took the lioness in the chest, ranging back through the heart and most of the vital organs behind it. The cat shuddered, then charged straight into Marguerite's second .375 Magnum bullet, placed about like Finn's bullet had been. Susan put a 180 grain softnosed .303 into the neck as the dying lioness passed her, intent on bringing down Marguerite. Susan was surprised to hear the impact of her bullet into flesh, much louder than she'd expected. She reloaded, cycling the bolt as Lord Roxton had shown her, the way that the British Expeditionary Force of 1914 had operated their bolt-action rifles so rapidly that the Germans had thought they had far more machineguns than they had. She had practiced this technique religiously at both Avebury and at the Challenger estate, and had become rather proficient. Her BSA-made Lee-Enfield sporter had a ten-shot military magazine in place, and she was beginning to be glad of its capacity!

Her shot dropped the big cat, although both of her fellow huntresses put additional shots into it before they were satisfied that it was dead. Susan remembered Roxton telling her to shoot until she was sure. "An extra cartridge doesn't cost nearly so much as a doctor bill," he'd quipped. "Or a funeral!"

They had just begun to relax when others swarmed out to tell them that the original man-eater, the male lion, was again in the village! Shuddering, they replaced their spare ammunition and went looking for the deadly beast.

Because the pathways within the village were narrow, they fell into single file. Finn now took the lead, her heavy rifle being their best bet to stop a charge.

"I just remembered something. Aren't we supposed to be back in camp, playing cards?" Marguerite's quip drew a wan smile from Finn. Susan appreciated Marguerite's droll humor more than she once had, but was too frightened to laugh now.

They stalked carefully, fearful that the lion might be behind any hut. A single turn might bring them face-to-face with it. Man-eaters usually hunt silently, as do all lions when closing on prey. Finn strained to sniff any whiff of lion on the mild breeze, and soon caught the scent, like pungent urine. Her rifle came up, and she prepared to fire. Then, the scent wafted off The lion had probably moved on. It could be anywhere, maybe behind the next hut. The strain on her nerves was telling. I could get old fast this way, she thought.

The stress was added to by the whining and muffled conversations of the natives huddling within the huts. Their noise covered any faint feline sounds that might spell life or death for the white women.

Finn soon realized that what they were doing was virtually suicidal. She turned to tell Marguerite that they needed to leave the village and rethink their plan, before one or more of them was killed. At this range, even if she planted a 400 grain bullet in the lion's heart, it would probably reach them before it died.

As she began to whisper, she heard a small wooden creak and the giving way of a thatch roof. She looked up, to see a lioness about to spring down onto her from a rooftop!

Before she could raise her Jeffery .400, she saw the lioness flinch and fall, dropping in mid-leap. The sound of Susan's shot reached her ears before full realization of what had happened did. Then, she fired into the lioness's head as her body rocked with shock. She heard Susan shoot again, also, then the quivering lioness died, a final rush of exhaling breath being quite audible.

Blacks swarmed out of the huts, gesturing at the dead cat, singing songs of celebration. The white women were hoisted atop shoulders, jubilant villagers singing their praises.

Just as they began to recover from this unexpected joy, a man rushed up to Jerogi, babbling something that even Marguerite had trouble understanding. Jerogi looked at Finn. "Memsahib Bunduki, this man says that the lion is running away now. Come quickly!"

A brisk run between huts got them a look at a male lion loping toward a thick patch of bush en route to where he had earlier eaten the African woman. If he got into that cover, hunting him would be exceedingly dangerous.

Marguerite looked at Jerogi, who was wearing Susan's telescopic-sighted .275 on its sling. "_Toa bunduki kidogo kwa Memsahib Susan_," she commanded. (Bring the little rifle to the mistress Susan.)

Susan snatched the Rigby from Jerogi, working the bolt to load a cartridge into the chamber. She breathed deeply, trying to steady her nerves and her aim. The Hensoldt 'scope sight found the trotting lion as it broke into a faster lope. Her first bullet was behind the cat, which growled menacingly at the sonic crack of the passing bullet.. The second shot hit the lion in the ribs on the left as it quartered away.

It swerved and charged, from about 200yards. Wrong decision: it ran right into a .375 bullet from Marguerite's Holland & Holland. Finn tried to watch both the lion and their backs, in case even more lions were in the village. She decided to hold her fire until the lion was well within 100 yards. Heavy double-barreled rifles like her Jeffery were not intended as long range guns. They were meant for close work on big animals.

Marguerite and Susan shot again, the reports of their rifles almost blending. The lion tumbled over itself and lay still. Susan walked off to the side and placed another carefully aimed bullet from the handsome Rigby .275 between its shoulder blades. But there was no reaction.

As soon as Lady Roxton and the author's secretary had reloaded, the three women approached the lion, now lying some 70 yards from them. Jerogi threw stones at it until they were sure that it was dead. He walked over and gingerly prodded the carcass with his spear. "Eeeh," he muttered. "_Kuisha_." Finished.

They looked soberly at this animal that had so fiercely charged them. It was large and in apparent good health. So much for the myth that maneaters were all old lions that could no longer catch their natural prey…

Finn and Susan saw something strange: the mane had been clipped to form odd symbols in the fur, and there were colorful plastic trade beads woven into the mane. Marguerite came over and gasped. Jerogi and two villagers who had run over saw the beads and the clippings of the mane. They recoiled in shock. Muttering, "_Juju",_ they hastily withdrew.

"Come, Mem'sahib," urged Jerogi. "This lion was _juju_, bad magic. Let us leave before its spirit seizes us." His eyes rolled white in his dark face.

"Ahoy, Marguerite! Finn! What the devil are you ladies doing out here?" It was Lord Roxton's voice! And he didn't sound pleased.

Roxton, Challenger, and Blacklaws stalked over, obviously in a huff. They admired the lion, which was a good trophy, and Challenger admitted that the adornment of the mane would make it a nice conversation piece, when mounted. Blacklaws warned, though, that the District Commissioner might seize it.

"This is a _juju_ lion, one belonging to a witch doctor, if the natives can be believed. I'm sure that I don't know how they get the lions to hold still while they braid the beads, though. Still, if Sir John hears of this, the police or the KAR will probably investigate. Witch doctors have extraordinary power over these simple people, and this can cause serious unrest amongst the kaffirs." He used the term of his native South Africa, "kaffir" being derived from an Arabic word meaning, "infidel." But it meant blacks.

"I rather fancy that they feed the lion some drugged meat, and braid the beads while it's sleeping," said Challenger. "But how they get them to turn out as maneaters, I couldn't say. Maybe they collect the bodies of the old or sick people that the wogs cast out in the bush and put them where a particular lion is apt to patrol. That might give the lion the idea that humans are easy meat."

"Probably," agreed Blacklaws. "And they do this with hyenas, too, I'm told. We had a maneating hyena here late last year, after you went home. A bloke whom I know shot it. It had the same sort of beadwork in its hairdo. Some wog stylist must be running a regular salon for this sort of thing. It frightens the natives no end, if they see the animals with the witch doctor touch. Not too chic in my book, though."

"Well, look, this was nice shooting," Roxton said. "We saw, but were too far off to help. The car is parked about 750 yards back from the village, near yours. The point here is, why the hell have you women gone off despite Joseph's warning, and exposed yourselves to this danger? Marguerite, I expect a good answer, and none of your bloody sass! You are my wife, and you have risked unnecessary danger. Explain yourselves!" He was obviously angry, as well as worried.

"Johnny, it was my fault," Finn interjected. "The old man who came to us for help was pretty shaken up. Hell, his favorite wife was being eaten! We were the only whites nearby, and we saw this as our Christian duty, to help. It's just part of the white man's burden, to use that famous phrase. We couldn't just sit there and do nothing!"

"You bloody well could!" roared Challenger. "Finn, were you out of your female mind?! You are my wife, the mother of our children, a fine author and film maker, and an English gentlewoman. Your life is far more valuable than those of a few damned native villagers. I have been in a state of great anxiety since Joseph told us what you women set out to do!"

"Genius, I'm sorry, but I have to disagree with you, respectfully." Finn was mad now, too. "You've taught me proper morals and a sense of duty, to Crown and to humanity. We couldn't let this pass. I couldn't sleep, knowing that we had just sat by while this happened. I'm not here just because this will make a great chapter in my next book. And we were scared out of our everloving minds! My heart still hasn't stopped racing. One lioness almost jumped on me off of a hut. I'd be dead now, if Susan hadn't shot in the absolute nick of time! I don't need this hassle. You know damned well that YOU'D have helped!"

Challenger grumped, "That's not the same. Roxton and I are men. We are expected to do this sort of thing. That's risk enough, but our ladies are very precious to us. I damned nearly lost you. And for what?! We were told that that poor woman had already been consumed before you even arrived."

"But we saved others," Marguerite pointed out. "One lioness was breaking down the door of a hut. And we shot three man-eaters! That's hardly trivial! Let's go home. I want lunch, if I can keep it down. And my stomach is roiling not just because I have been totally terrified, but from disgust that my husband would react this way to what was heroism on our part."

Roxton wasn't mollified. "Bloody Boudicca (Boadicea) was a female heroic and look where it got her," he fumed. "And Joan of Arc! Marguerite, I have been sick from worry. Don't do this to me again."

Finn stepped over and stood against Challenger, looking earnestly into his eyes. "Genius, you can punish me for this, and I'll take it. I'm your wife, and you are the authority in our marriage. But I'm never going to say that I regret doing the right thing. Given the circumstances, I think that's what we did. And poor Susan has never had to shoot anything dangerous before. She performed magnificently. I think we should give her a raise."

"You're trying to change the subject and distract me, " muttered her mate. "But, yes, Susan, we will reward you in some way. I'm enormously glad that you saved Finn. I don't know what I should do, had that lioness gotten her. The sun would go out of my life!"

"I'm still shining, Genius, and I'm sorry that we upset you. Please forgive me? I just did what I thought was right. That's what you taught me. These people are Africans. I know that they're not very advanced by our standards. But they're human, too. I think God loves them, even if they're not English.." Finn wiped away a tear. She was still frightened by her recent experience, and disappointed that Challenger and Roxton were acting as they were.

Roxton looked at Marguerite, and as if by some silent signal, they slung their rifles and embraced. "I'm just worried sick, Marguerite," he admitted. "You scared me, but you made me proud, too. Just please don't do anything like this again. At least, don't go into a cramped village where a big cat can be around any corner and get to you before you can react. Agreed?"

Marguerite smiled up at him. "Oh, well, if I must. I mean, what's a girl to do for fun out here? We should have gone to the Riviera, instead. I'm really not cut out for this. There isn't a jeweler within miles, let alone a decent tea shop."

"I think we can manage tea and a nice lunch, back in camp," Blacklaws suggested. "But we need to get the hides off of those lions, if you want the trophies. Sir John will need to see the one with the beads, but I'll try to convince him to accept copies of the evidence photos that Susan tells me that she took. You'll want the skin, if he'll agree. You'll probably be only people in your neighborhood with a juju lion hide! He'll want to charge some wog with witchcraft and promoting maneating, if he can. This is a rotten business, and I hate witch doctors. They support all sorts of evil, and cause these poor natives no end of terror. They believe this magic, _juju,_ rubbish, you know. It's deeply ingrained in their society."

Challenger reached down and kissed Finn. "Darling, I am hugely proud of you, but please keep risks in mind if you are tempted to do this again. The devil of it is, what you said is correct. You did what you saw as your duty, and did it very well. But I am selfish enough to ask you not to take such risks again, especially going into that village."

Finn agreed. "We had to kill those lionesses still trying tol get at people. But maybe we can come up with better tactics if it ever happens again. Johnny and I can talk about that. Please don't stay mad at me?" She looked earnestly into his face.

He softened his expression, stroking her hair affectionately. "I was only mad because I was filled with dread," he admitted. "Actually, I am also enormously proud of you, Marguerite, and Susan. Later today, I will try to find a stump to serve as a substitute for that pedestal in our room at home, and I will place you on it with great pride."

"I don't need a pedestal, George, " she replied. "I just want your love and your forgiveness, if there is anything to forgive."

He took her in his arms, telling her that he had only been angry because he thought that he might lose her. They rubbed noses and kissed, and the matter was over, except for frightening memories for both.

They skinned the lions, and returned to camp. But Jerogi would not ride in the car with the hide of the _juju_ lion. He still feared any evil influence that it might have.

CHAPTER THREE

In camp, word soon spread among the Africans that these lions were the familiars of a witch doctor, and the staff did as little as possible with them. The white hunters and Roxton finished up the work, insuring properly processed trophies.

Finn and Marguerite looked at the teeth of the late lions, shuddering as they thought of the damage that these would have done in seconds, had one of the cats reached the women. "Look at the claws, too," advised Stuart Hamilton. "Next time, stay in camp and let us fellows handle the lions. Geoff and I are paid to risk our necks. And the other men will help us, if need be. I don't want any dead clients, let alone female ones. Tends to sully my reputation, you know."

His wife took umbrage. "Good Heavens, Stuart! What would you have had them do? We were all gone! And don't, 'now, Diana' me! I understand your concerns, but you men seem just a trifle chauvinistic over this!"

"It's a good issue to be chauvinistic over," her husband mildly replied. "Look at it from the male angle. If you had been one of today's huntresses, I'd have been upset, too, although I know full well that you have good nerves and can shoot the antennae off of a locust at 50 paces. But you are still my wife, and I'd be rather stressed out if I knew that you were hunting maneaters."

"How do you think I feel when I know that you do that, or take clients into cover after big elephant?" she retorted."You think I don't worry, just because you're male? When I heard last month about you and those elephants who were raiding those shambas…" ("Shambas" are native farms.)

Marguerite had heard enough. "Buy a girl a drink, Geoff?" she asked the handsome hunter. "Actually, I'd prefer tea. A cheap date for you, eh?" She winked at her husband, still cleaning a lion hide. He shook his head in tolerant amusement, shooting Backlaws a sympathetic look.

"I'm going along as a chaperone," Finn declared. "Come on, Susan, let's take Geoff up on Marguerite's offer. But I want a whiskey. I feel I've earned one. I'll look at those claws and the rest of the lions later. It's just a little too close to me now." She hooked her elbows inside Blacklaw's and Marguerite's and led them out to the dining table, the hunter stopping off in his tent to snag a bottle of Scotch.

The ladies being graciously seated, Blacklaws called for tea, and poured himself, Susan Wilson, and Finn Challenger a shot each of whiskey. "Who wants soda and who wants water in her drink?" he inquired.

An hour later, the ladies having vented enough and ingested enough of Mr. Dewar's amber liquid, they were cheerful . They had decided to forgive the men, although Marguerite said that she might yet insist that Roxton buy her a necklace in Nairobi or London before he was fully off the hook.

Finn shrugged. "I can't stay mad at the Genius. He was just grumpy because he was afraid for me. It can't be easy being a man. They have to be so gallant and brave, when they're probably almost as scared as I was today. And George would be really hurt if I had been killed. He was just blowing off steam. Let Johnny go, Marguerite. If he didn't love you, he wouldn't have blustered that way. Guys who love you get really freaked out if they think they somehow failed to protect you. I sort of like that about men. And they're big and cuddly. That's one of the reasons why I love George. He's my snuggly-wuggly. Gad, did I just say that?" She giggled.

Marguerite pointedly capped the bottle. "No more happy juice for you, Finnykins. Look, Geoff: we had to give up birdshooting to get the lions processed. Can we go tomorrow? I rather fancy the idea of francolin grouse for dinner."

Told that they could indeed go birdshooting, Blacklaws added that the cook was broiling some francolins that very night. "Mr. Malone popped three of them with his little Marlin .22 on the way back from building the leopard blind," he announced. "His wife wanted fowl instead of flesh for dinner."

"I get tired of venison," Veronica agreed as she sauntered up to the table with Ned. "You girls had some nerve today. We just came from seeing those lions. Were you scared.?"

"No more than if I'd looked up into the sky and seen an asteroid about to hit us," Susan admitted. The other ladies concurred, saying that it was a good analogy. Susan smiled, feeling as if she fit in better now; wasn't just Finn's employee.

The others finished up what they were doing, cleaned their hands, and joined those at the table. Finn went to their tent, and helped Challenger find his favorite white shirt with thin green lines down the front and along the sleeves. She changed into a dress, white, sleeveless, with sandals, and brushed her hair. He sat on his cot, watching, until she demanded to know what was the matter. "Is there something on the back of my dress, or are you just still mad at me for going maneater hunting?"

"Neither," he smiled. "I'm just sitting here admiring the most graceful, kind, charming, beautiful, and erotic woman in the world, not to mention one of the bravest. And I'm lusting to meet her, but remembered that I'm already married to her. Darling, put your hair in a ponytail. You always look so young and desirable that way. I don'r give a damn who it makes jealous of me tonight."

Finn did as he asked, glowing at his description of her. When this man of hers couldn't put her on his silly wooden pedestal, he used words to make her feel as if she was up there, anyway. She remembered to add the slim gold loop earrings that Marguerite said made her look like a teen tart or a slave girl. She blushed at the accusation, which she conceded probably had some basis in fact. But she also knew that the earrings made men look at her. The Challengers strolled back to the table, arm-in-arm, just as dinner was served.

Dinner was excellent, everyone agreeing that the francolin were tasty, as was the impala venison. Wine flowed, as did conversation. A good time was had by all, with the men grudgingly admittting that the three ladies who had gone lion hunting on their own had meant well. And the experience had ended well…this time!

"I'm not sure what I'd have done," confessed Veronica. "I'd have been so scared. But do you think the DC will seize the hides?" She looked to Blacklaws and Hamilton.

Diana Hardy Hamilton answered. "My dad knows Sir John rather well, and I know Amanda, his wife. Have for years. If we put in an appeal, Sir John may find a way to let you keep them. Susan's photos should help, and she says that she can develop those at Dad's place or at the Musgrave home. But if a jury sees and handles the actual lion skins, they'll experience the effect that the Crown prosecutor would like them to, more than from photos. So, we'll put in a good word for you, but Sir John or the Provincial Commissioner may be doggy and declare the hides as evidence. Finn, your book can get by on the photos, and will, anyway. But it would be so nice if you took the hides on your lecture tours, and let your audiences see them."

"I'm guessing that Musgrave will want the hides," said Roxton. "I want for Marguerite, Susan, and Finny to have them, but Musgrave has his job to do. If letting him have those hides will put a witch doctor behind bars, it may be worth the price. And after the trial, if there is one, the hides can be shipped to us. I'll pay for that, and make sure that Musgrave knows it. He's a bit stuffy, but not really a bad chap. He could have probably been much stickier about Finn shooting that fleeing slaver when it wasn't totally necessary." He referred to an event when the abducted girls were rescued the previous year. Finn had shot an Arab running for his car after he had fired a pistol at them. But she and Challenger, who was "spotting" for her with his binocular, were not in great danger, hidden in the darkness, some 150 yards away.

"If he'd tried to prosecute me for blasting that damned Juma when he was aiming my own gun at me, I'd have given him a fine piece of my mind. And Finny was just doing the decent thing, removing a dangerous predator from society." Marguerite had drawn deep satisfaction from shooting a treacherous former servant and recovering the gun that he had stolen from her. (See, "On Safari", a prequel to this story.)

Talk soon turned to what to hunt next, apart from birds for camp fare. Everyone agreed that they wanted to eat more francolin, the grouse having, as a later author would phrase it, been cursed with an abundance of delicious white breast meat.

Because a leopard blind had already been built, they would try to get a cat feeding on a dead antelope in a nearby tree. If they were successful in shooting the leopard, they'd move toward the District Commissioner's home, hunting a variety of antelope and ordinary lions en route. And Hamilton said that Finn might indeed find the huge buffalo that she wanted.

The safari members enjoyed rehashng their day, taking a survey of who wanted to shoot a leopard from the new blind. Marguerite, normally ambivalent about shooting game, decided that she wanted a chance at the spotted cat. "It will look fashionable in our library," she announced, to Roxton's pleasure.

It was also agreed that they would join the Tremaynes at their nearby camp, an invitation having been extended as they passed Marguerite's half brother and his spouse earlier that day. Marguerite was eager to spend time with them, and now that she had the maneaters to brag about, especially wanted to see Charles and Felicity. And Finn wanted to ask Charles just where he had shot that tremendous buffalo whose head she so admired on his wall at Lindemere Manor. (See, "Murder in a Stately Mansion".)

Blacklaws was chosen to be the professional who would sit with Marguerite in the blind. This prompted his wife to sarcastically point out that she would be worried until they returned safely. Diana reminded Holly that their men had the responsibility of taking such risks, were used to it, and that they needed to bury the issue of the women having gone after the lions that day. Blacklaws decided to have a word with Holly in private. He was on good terms with these people, who had become friends. But it was unacceptable for Mrs. Blacklaws to say such things before clients. They were, after all, his livlihood. Holly was young and rather spoiled, the daughter of a car dealer and banker in Nairobi. She occasionally forgot herself and committed social gaffes. Fortunately, she usually learned from them, and she was very in love with Blacklaws, a dashing figure who had been much sought by single women until his marriage.

After the others had adjourned to bed, Finn and Challenger walked a little way from their tent, where they could see the glory of the night sky. They scanned the heavens with their binoculars, marvelling at the pristine appearance of the cosmos far from city lights. They enjoyed doing this from their rural home in Kent, but here, all seemed enchantingly primitive, the soft singing of the Africans at their own fire adding exotic appeal. The world seemed fresh and clean, compared to civilized countries. " I still like going to Harrod's or Fortnum's and to good tea shops at home, "Finn admitted. "Even getting fish and chips is fun. But doing this, here, recharges my batteries. What about you, Genius?"

He lowered his binocular on its strap, and pulled his wife to his side. "Yes, Darling. That awful,plateau where we met had its compensations for the dangers. One was feeling so much in tune with Nature when we stepped onto our balcony in that treehouse, listened to the night, and watched the heavens. I felt renewed, especially after you came into my life. I feel that here, also. I'm glad that we came on this safari."

Finn set her binocular on a log, and the couple embraced, kissing until Roxton walked over, cleared his throat, and reminded them that dawn came early. "Little blonde girls who want to shoot big buffaloes need their sleep. Besides, with man-eaters in the area, I rather fancy that we ought not to wander this far from camp."

"Come now, Roxton, do you really feel that we are in danger?" Challenger was miffed that his friend had interrupted such an intimate moment. Besides, he had his .450 rifle at hand.

"Can't say, but lions have been known to walk through camps. I once found footprints right outside my tent. Because there seem to be known maneaters here, and a witch doctor creating them, I really would feel better if you two came back and went to bed. Anyway, you're a hundred yards from camp, and snakes are more active in the night. You're the two best friends I've ever had. I'd like to preserve you, if I can."

The Challengers grudgingly agreed that he probably had a point. "Johnny, do you and Marguerite feel safe if you tie your tent flaps?" Finn wanted to know. "I'm afraid that a lion that wants in will rip a tent right open."

"They jolly well might," Roxton conceded. "But they seldom do. Maybe it's not seeing people that keeps them from doing it. Maneaters may be worse about it, though. One of the famous Tsavo maneaters went right into a rail carriage and took a man named Ryan from his bunk. They're often very bold. But the sound of them ripping your tent may give you time to grab a rifle and give them a warm welcome. That's the best that we can hope for. I half think we should have built a boma, but the brush here is too sparse fot that. Tomorrow, I'll suggest camping where we can make one. And I'm looking forward to spending the next night at Angus Hardy's place. A house is far more secure than a tent, if the local kitties are the sort that eat people. Come on, I'll walk you back to camp. I didn't know that you had your .450, George. Still, it isn't prudent to be out here alone. Remember this is Africa. Everything bites!"

Two hours later, Finn stirred. She had had a nightmare about the lioness on the roof of the native hut. Challenger listened, pulled her to him, and promised to keep his arm around her when she went back to sleep. It was not the frst time that he had comforted her after a bad dream. It made him feel fulfilled and needed. Perhaps Finny is right about us having the love of the centuries, he mused. He kissed his wife's neck, and tried to sleep. What Roxton had said about lions nagged at his mind. He would be glad when they left this area.

Susan Wilson had no one to hold her as she woke, teeth gnashing, sweating. She sat on the edge of her camp bed, breathing deeply, being sure that her .303 was loaded and next to her. But she was proud of what she had done that day. Like her role model and boss, she had faced up to a job normally reserved for bold men. She felt more excited and alive than she had in her life. If only she had a mate to hold her as she shivered in the dark! Mrs. Challenger was so lucky there, as were the others. She finally settled for hugging her pillow and praying that no hungry cats would come calling. Hearing the demented laughter of hyenas a mile away was bad enough. But she wouldn't miss this for the world. Not even for a sale at Fortnum & Mason, she snickered. Finally, she slept, moaning only occasionally as her mind turned over images of her being eaten by a lion.

Following breakfast, they set out to hunt several antelope species and to see what else might come to hand. The Challengers and the Malones rode together with Stuart Hamilton and his wife. George was thrilled to see a Greater Bustard, a large bird that he wanted for his displays in a natural history museum that the Challengers had decided to build for the people where they lived in Kent. The meat wasn't especially palatable, but the bird made an impressive display. He would need to do some of the specialized taxidermy himself, as the African trophy preperation "boys" had little experience with birds.

He took it with a shot from his .275, using full jacketed ("soild") bullets to minimize tissue and feather damage. He passed on some crowned cranes, not havng room for them at this time. He had decided to take two near the end of the trip, when there was more time and space to deal with them, some trophies being sent ahead to the safari firm's offices for work by a local taxidermist. George and the others then passed half an hour watching cranes and other water birds at a small lake, marvelling at the abuncdance of all life on these savannahs, broken by clumps of thicker forest. The Hamiltons were pleased that the Challengers and the Malones cared about more than just shooting, that they loved and enjoyed studying the animals and birds. Finn filmed some cranes that flew over.

"Too many come out from England or the States and just want to fill their licenses," complained the hunter. "I like clients like you, who care what's here, and not just how big a trophy you can shoot. And you work for the ones that you really want. And are decent chaps to know socially. I can barely tolerate some clients. Fortunately, some are really nice, like you. Often, they turn out to be the serious hunters and nature lovers. Too many just want the prestige of having gone on safari, and to boast of their courage. It has been my experience that most of those who show the least courage, take the fewest chances. But they talk the loudest."

"I've met some like that," said Malone. "They come to Brazil, too, and we've heard them in the hotels in Rio and in Manaus. I think they get their jaguars mainly if they get lucky, or if their guides lure one in. Still, it takes guts to stand and shoot a jaguar that you know will claw you into hamburger if it gets to you. They have big teeth, too. They'll take a bite out of you that the IRS would envy."

"The IRS?" asked Diana. "What's that? The Mick terrorists are the IRA."

"Inland Revenue, American version," explained Challenger. "Never fear, Ned, our version is as greedy. I've paid many a pretty penny in taxes on my inventions, as has Finn on her book sales and speaking engagements. I say, did you know that her books are out now in America, too? And in Canada! By the end of the year, they will be on sale in South Africa and Australia. I'm hugely proud of her, of course." He beamed at his wife, who blushed gracefully, leaned over and kissed him.

"My cheering section and chief supporter,"she explained, jabbing a thumb at her mate, her grin as wide as a crescent moon.

"Oh, look! " said Veronica. "Isn't that an eagle?" She pointed toward a large bird of prey that launched itself from a tree ahead of their cars.

"Yes," exclaimed Diana. "A tawny eagle and a big one. Stuart, stop the car. I want to get out with my binocular and look. I don't see many of them where we live. Marsh hawks and some kestrels, but just an occasional big eagle. Of course, we see some secretary birds. They're sort of long-legged eagles. They walk as much as they fly."

And so the morning went. They found a heavily forested area that was like an oasis in the drier savannah, and managed to shoot a duiker and a bushbuck. The latter was Susan's first kill of edible game. She was quite proud of it. "My first contribution to the larder," she joked. But she was quite proud of it and of the clean kill. She stroked the reddish fur and checked the sharp, spirald horns, clearly enchanted.

The Roxtons and the Blacklaws couple drove over to join the Tremaynes and their hunter. Their route took them past a waterhole, where they studied the animals that came and went. There was a stir of excitement as a pack of wild dogs harried a fleeing impala past the cars.

"I've half a mind to shoot up that pack," grumbled Geoff. "I don't like the way they hunt, running the life out of an animal, coursing it and taking bites from it as it tries to get away. Leopards at least kill quickly and quietly, and with minimum fuss. If I was a buck destined to be eaten, I think I'd prefer death by leopard. I don't fancy the way that hyenas or crocodiles kill, either. Sometimes, when the mood and the opportunity grab me, I shoot up both a bit. Then, I feel bad for it later. Life is never perfect, except when I'm alone with Holly, and she's just baked something." He winked at his spouse.

Charles Tremayne, Lord Lindemere, chuckled. "Nice go, Blacklaws. If my wife hadn't just overheard that, I'd try a compliment like that on her."

"Don't bother," jested Lady Lindemere, Felicity. "I seldom bake. We have servants for that. No matter. When we're alone, it usually isn't cake, muffins, or pie that you want, Charles." She grinned at his embarrassment, then snuggled next to him.

"And we have the children to prove that," he admitted, tipping up her chin and kissing her lips. "I say, Marguerite, Roxton, what are you hunting today? Shall I show you where I shot that big buff that thrills Finn? Not but half an hour's drive from here."

"Finny can have any buff that we shoot, unless John insists on taking a couple. They always remind me of a headmistress that I had at school. She had a horrid disposition. "

Lady Roxton grimaced. "We girls swore that she looked for excuses to cane us. I think she was jealous of my looks." She cast an eye at Roxton to see if he'd use that remark as an opportunity to offer a compliment..

He didn't fail her. "I should think that most women would be jealous of your looks, Marguerite. I didn't marry you for your cooking, Lord knows, and I had my choice of many women."

Felicity smiled. "Why didn't you marry her for her cooking, John? Are you like Charles, not paying attention to food when she's alone with you?"

Roxton tried to look slighted. "I'll have you know that I pay attention to food when I'm with her. I feed her strawberries and champagne. Her cooking, on the other hand, is an acquired taste…which I suggest that you not try to acquire. But it got better while we were on the plateau. Veronica taught her a lot, and Finn helped."

"Let's get back to strawberries and champagne," suggested Margurerite. "I could go for some this afternoon. Stop, Geoff! Look to the left, everyone! Aren't those cheetahs?" She fumbled for her binocular, still in its leather case.

Blacklaws stopped, and they all piled out, Lindemere with a cine camera. He got some good film as the cats chased a Thomson's gazelle past the cars. The animals were intent on their own drama, and ignored the vehicles. They had probably never seen cars or white people before.

They drove on and soon found Cape buffalo, large herds of them. Staying at a careful distance, they looked them over. Several herds had very shootable bulls, easily trophy quality.

They selected one that stood out, and Felicity, whose turn it was to shoot, had the gunbearer pass her her .400. Then, she, their hunter, and her husband went after the big, black, glowering bovines. Blacklaws told Holly that she could shoot one the next day, when they'd return with the Challengers.

Everyone watched with binoculars as the stalk progressed. Blacklaws had his .500 double-barreled rifle passed forward, in case he had to assist. Only a fool or a supreme optimist took buffalo hunting casually. But Felicity killed cleanly, her husband putting in an "insurance shot."

The rest of the morning passed in taking photos and in getting the huge animal winched up on the truck that followed the hunting car, for transporting trophies. The horns measured a fraction over 53 inches tip-to-tip, a grand trophy! And buffalo meat would be welcome in camp. Normally, the boys sang when there was a good trophy and much meat. Today, they looked glum and did their work with sullen expressions.

Holly slipped away from the others, and called over her gunbearer, a Lumbwa named Masoni. He was from her household staff, not part of the safari crew. "Why are the boys so somber?" she asked. "There is much good meat, _nyama m'zuri sana."_

_"N'Dio_, Mem'Sahib," he agreed. "But there are also _juju _lions. Boys not happy."

The mood in camp was subdued, although the boys cheered up when Hamilton told them that they could have double meat rations. The safari also sent some of the meat to the village that had been visited by the man-eaters. With the buffalo, there was more meat than the safari could use before it went bad. Biltong – dried meat- would be made, but there was still a surplus, with the antelope and the birds. When Finn shot her buff, there would again be more meat than needed, and the natives would feast on the surplus. Safaris conducted by reputable firms did not waste meat.

XXX

At dinner, the group decided to hunt birds and smaller antelope during the morning. Then, Marguerite would enter the leopard blind, where a dead impala had been wedged in a nearby tree that afternoon. With luck,a big tom leopard would come to feed on the carcass. Marguerite, if all went well, might then get a shot at the furtive, almost ghostly, cat. Tracks in the area suggested that two big toms might find the antelope, placed at the overlapping edges of the big cats' "beats" or terrritories. With luck, one would find the kill and feed on it before the other discovered it. If the two met and fought, both hides might be damaged and make poor trophies.

Veronica showed Challenger sketches of red cobras on suitable backgrounds depicting their typical haunts. She could refine these to get just the effect that Challenger and Finn wanted. The completed oil painting would eventually hang in their den.

Lord and Lady Lindemere stayed for dinner, and were amazed at Veronica's talent. They told her that they could get commissions for her from their wealthy friends who hunted in Africa, and who loved the animals there. Veronica was startled at the prices mentioned, and she and Ned agreed to discuss the idea.

In bed later, Finn stirred happily against Challenger. "I can't believe that I'll get my chance at one of those really big buffaloes tomorrow, Genius. Can we hang it on the wall in the den, so that it's the very first thing that someone sees when they look in the door?"

He reflected. "Yes, Darling. Unless of course, you want to mount the entire buffalo. That will cost us some serious money, but I think it would fit handily in the den to the right, along the wall. Bit bulky, but for you, I'd find a way to get it in there, if it'd go through the door. There's the rub. Cape buffalo are not small items." He caressed her hair and shoulder as Finn ran her foot tenderly down his leg,

She rolled over to look him in the face. George couldn't make out her expression in the darkness, but he knew her well enough to know what he would see, had the lamp been on. "Guess we'd better settle for a head mount, then. It's all that I expected. Lover? Thanks for coming on this trip. I can hardly believe that we're here again, and looking forward to what I am. I just hope that I manage to shoot one as big as Charles's. Or close. If I do, don't be surprised if I sneak out of bed sometimes and tiptoe into the den to admire it."

Challenger chuckled. "Well, if we have guests at the time, put on some clothes! I was pretty surprised when you slipped out of our room at the Tremaynes' that night to look at his big mount. I could just imagine what would happen if someone had come out of another room, to find you at the top of those stairs, as nude as some girl on a French postcard of the wrong sort! I wouldn't have been able to show my face downstairs that morning!"

Finn grinned impishly, rolled on her back and slipped off her panties. She dropped them on the trunk alongside their camp bed, knowing that his eyes followed her motions in the shadows "I'm just that naked right now, and we're all alone. Want to take advantage of it? If anyone hears us, it'll be a big scandal: married couple discovered in lewd affair! "She ran a hand up his leg, artfully teasing what she found as it joined his trunk. Finn peeled the covers off and scooted down to take his growing tumescence in her mouth. "Want to experience my best lollipop lick, Genius?"

"How lewd an affair were you thinking we might be caught having? We have to be up in a few hours for you to shoot that buffalo. " He squirmed as his wife showed just how skilled her attentions could be. Finn was an artist with her mouth, and Challenger knew that he would have to assuage her lust before he could sleep. Not that he considered it a great sacrifice on his part. ..

"Let's be really naughty for maybe an hour, Lover. Unless I'm a well fucked woman, I'll never get to sleep tonight. I'll just lie here tingling, thinking about tomorrow, and whether I'll do my part if Stuart finds us a buff as big as Charles's. I want one so bad that I can taste it, but I'm scared that I'll mess up and ruin my shot. So, de-stress me. Make me squeal with pleasure." She fondled him, resuming her ministrations.

Her skills were exquisite, and for the thousandth time, Challenger congratulated himself on marrying this woman. The more he took her, the more he enjoyed her. He felt sorry for those couples who grew bored with one another. Maybe Finn was right: perhaps they did have the love of the ages.

"In that case," he told her, "let's see what I can find to do to wear you out." Evidently, he discovered things that appealed to her, for she was soon mewling, twisting in his arms even before he returned her oral favors. At one point, he noticed that she had pulled the pillow over her face, muffling the sounds she made as she jerked beneath him. She swung her legs around his waist as spasms of total orgasm shook her. She tossed off the pillow and squeezed him in a grasp so full of passion that he marveled at her capacity for sensual pleasure. It was often thus with them, but Challenger always felt privileged to be able to do this to her, to rock her world so thoroughly. Not that it wasn't a mutual event.

Someday, he thought, I will do this once too often, and my heart will not stand the strain. But I will doubtless die a happy man. And my heart should last for years to come.

When they were done, and Finn lay spent in his arms, she nuzzled his neck and thanked him. "I needed that, Genius. Thanks for being there for me."

He smiled, tracing a finger lightly around her right nipple. "That's quite all right, young lady," he teased. "just as long as you remember to say 'thank you.' Although I always feel as if I should be thanking you. Darling, do you sometimes pity mere mortals, who never reach our erotic heights? Zeus on Olympus never enjoyed a goddess half so much as you thrill me. I trust that you'll sleep better now?" He laid his head against hers as she purred, trying to suppress a giggle of satisfied delight.

"Ummm," she murmured. "Sorry about the pillow, George. I was just trying to save you embarrassment, in case anyone heard me. Gad, I wanted to scream like a banshee! It's been a week since we did this, and this was one of your better efforts. I'm glad the servants have their own quarters out back, at home. Not that I'm always a 'screamer.' Lots of times, I'm so turned on that I just squirm and moan. But sometimes, when you do me like you just did…I'd be so red-faced if the butler or the maids saw me the next day…But I'd be so proud that my man can make me do that that I'd be really pleased, too."

A thought struck her. "George? You don't think that Susan hears us? Her room is just down at the other end of our hall." She blushed scarlet, and Challenger felt the heat where her head lay on his shoulder.

He comforted her, stroking her hair and neck." I shouldn't think so, " he answered. "Does she ever give you intensely jealous looks the morning after I've had you this fully?" He chuckled, rather pleased at his stamina and creativity.

"No. I guess our door is thick enough. Genius? Hold me until I'm asleep? I love you more than I can express. Do you know how frustrating that is for a writer? Not to be able to find words to tell her man how terrific a stud he is?' She snuggled into him and closed her eyes with a sigh.

In the next tent over, John Roxton also sighed. "Thank goodness, that's over. Now, we can all sleep, and we need to. I just hope that we're the only ones who heard them. Challenger would be so embarrassed if he knew that we know what they were doing."

His mate smirked. "I won't embarrass George, but his lusty little blonde wife is going to learn that we know. I'm getting Finnykins back for that look that she and Veronica gave me earlier!'

So that's what that was about, mused Roxton. Women! He kissed Marguerite, and slept.

CHAPTER FOUR

Dawn came, with pink and orange hues on the horizon lifting the veil of darkness. The personal boys appeared at the tents with the inevitable, _"Mimi lette chai, Bwana, Mem'Sahib."_

They were greeted with groans or thanks, depending on the tent's occupants. Finn rose, pulling on panties and a robe as her mate unfastened the tent flaps. Challenger accepted the tea, which Finn gratefully poured, wiping sleep from her eyes. She looked somber, admitting that now that the hour of battle was at hand, she had misgivings. But she was still resolved to try her fortunes with a big bull buffalo. "If I don't do this, Genius, I'll hate myself forever."

"You'll certainly wonder if you could have done it," her spouse agreed. "But you'll manage, Darling. I have full confidence in you, and I know you as well as you know yourself. In some ways, maybe better. If you are determined to collect a buffalo and we find one suitable, my money is on your killing that buffalo. You are a fine shot, and when danger comes, you conquer it and become ice cold."

At breakfast, Marguerite took Finn aside. "I trust that you slept well, Finnykins? You seemed to be wheezing or gasping around midnight. Not getting a cold, I hope?" She smirked, and Finn, after a moment's reflection, realized what she meant.

Finn composed herself after a quick grin and replied, "I was a little chilly about then, Marguerite, but George really warmed me up, and I slept fine after awhile."

"What's this all about?" asked Veronica, who had walked up with Holly. "Are you okay, Finn?"

"If she isn't fine after what I overheard, George is a worse lover than I fancy he is. That man probably knows every sensory receptacle on the human body, and it sounded as if he was touching our Finny on all levels." Marguerite smirked. "Not that I'd be so crude as to mention it, but you girls deserve it, after those smug grins that you gave me recently. I have a long memory."

Veronica groaned. "Let's see if you have a long reach, too, Marguerite. Pass the coffee. And leave Finny alone. She has a big day ahead of her. I wouldn't want to risk my neck hunting a buffalo. I say we offer her our support. "

"What about supporting me, too?" Marguerite demanded. "It's my neck that's going to be at risk in that leopard blind tonight!"

Holly looked at her soberly. "Marguerite, you aren't just looking for sympathy. That is genuinely dangerous work, and I certainly will offer you my best wishes. You and Finn may both be in for some thrills today. But you'll have great memories to take home."

Marguerite sniffed. "That's only if I survive, which may be a factor. I don't know why I let John and Finn talk me into these adventures." She managed to look long suffering and put-upon.

"Well, if you don't survive, the rest of us promise to remember you fondly," retorted Veronica. "I promise to drink two cups of coffee every morning in memory of you."

Finn spluttered with laughter and put down her own cup. "Good jab, Vee! But we would miss you, Marguerite. You may be an acquired taste, but we've been through so much together that I've acquired you. Look, do you want me to sit up with you for the leopard?"

"No, thank you kindly, Little Miss Sure Shot. I'll kill my own leopards. John will expect it of me, and I suppose that I do, too. But I thank you. I know that you mean well."

"Be nice, ladies," warned Diana. "Here come the lads, fresh from viewing the trophies. But look here, Finn and Marguerite, both of you. If either of you muffs a shot, it's my husband and Holly's who will have to follow a wounded animal into the long grass and finish it off. I'd have chronic ulcers if I was Geoff's or Stuart's insurance man. I know that you girls can shoot, but please be sure before you press trigger today, on buff or leopard. Stuart has yet to breed me, as he so charmingly puts it, and Holly hasn't any children yet, either. Don't expose our lords and masters to any danger that can be avoided." She looked meaningfully at the huntresses.

"What's this about breeding you?" joked Stuart Hamilton. "You're still in training. Breeding comes in a year or two, not that you haven't demonstrated exceptional talent in training." He leaned over and kissed Diana before joining her at the table.

Joseph saw the men arrive for breakfast and motioned to the serving boys. They trotted off for fresh coffee, antelope chops, and scrambled eggs.

Diana caressed her man's leg. "If I'm a well trained filly, it's because my master is such a skilled rider. You bring out the thoroughbred in me." She leaned over to kiss him again, and buttered his toast, as she had seen Finn doing for Challenger.

Holly poured Blacklaws's coffee as they began talking about the day's business. But Finn touched Holly's shoulder and promised to take great care in making a clean kill if they found a buffalo worthy of her ambition. She knew that other women loved their husbands almost as much as she loved the Genius, and she would never risk the men's lives if she could avoid it. The stress of putting the professionals in danger when they and their women were also her friends had weighed heavily on her for days.

Then she looked across the table and saw Roxton smile warmly at her and give her a thumbs-up signal. Johnny knew her better than anyone save for her own husband, and his faith in her made her feel warm and confident. She began to wish that they'd finish breakfast and go look for a buffalo, one that would surpass even the huge one on Lord Lindemere's wall.

Following breakfast, they briefly visited the skinners' tent, where the boys still refused to work on the hide and skull of the _"juju_" lion. The other trophies were coming along well. The girls decided that the bushbuck was the prettiest animal that they'd shot, but that the lions were scary and impressive.

"I want one of those lionesses," declared Marguerite. "If John is away from Avebury without me and I need a thrill that sends chills down my spine, I can always go into the gun room and look at that mounted lioness and remember that day when she was trying to eat someone! Look here: Susan, do you mind if I keep the lion, too? I shot him, and I rather like that beaded mane. It should make a good conversation piece when we have guests." She was aware that Susan would probably be unable to afford the taxidermy fees, so was confident that she would get the lion, unless Finn stood up and wanted it for Susan. Finn was capable of that, and Marguerite hoped that there would be no quarrel about the trophy lion. She wanted it badly.

Challenger sensed that, but was miffed by her somewhat presumptive attitude. He drew Finn and Susan aside and offered to pay the taxidermy, import, and other fees. "Susan, yours was the first bullet into that beggar, and if you want it, I think you have first right to it. Darling, I presume that this meets with your approval?"

Finn nodded, smiling at Susan. But Susan, embarrassed, asked that Marguerite have the lion. "I don't want to get on Lady Roxton's bad side," she confessed, "and if I claim the lion, there may be bad blood between you and her, Ma'am. And you, Professor. But I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generous offer." She looked near to tears, and Finn pulled her over and hugged her. Then, she pulled Challenger down and hugged him fiercely, kissing him like it was Christmas and he had been a very generous Santa to her.

"Oh, Genius! You are the best husband ever! I just hope that I deserve you! Thank you so much. That was so generous and so sweet. Look, Susan: if you want that lion, George and I will convince Marguerite that it should be yours. Are you sure that you don't want it?"

Malone watched as Finn kissed Challenger and said, amused, "Get a room, you two!"

Veronica laughed, but jabbed her mate in the ribs with an elbow. She sensed what the other couple and their secretary were discussing, and she knew Marguerite's likely reaction. She felt sorry for Susan.

Roxton was on the verge of risking his wife's wrath and telling her to let poor Susan have the lion. He would, in fact, have cheerfully paid the trophy fees. He liked Susan, and pitied her situation. And he and Marguerite had many mounted trophies in their home, and would have more after this safari. Susan had none, and it would be a thrill for her to have such a prestigious one as a certified man-eater, with those witch doctor's beads in its mane! The truth was, he rather wanted it, himself. But his generosity and sense of fairness said that it should belong to Susan Wilson. Roxton was not without fault. He had at one time been one of the most notorious womanizers in all Britain. But he was basically an honorable man, one whose merit would have been recognized by King Arthur, himself, had Roxton been a candidate to sit at the Round Table of his noble knights. Still, he was also Marguerite's spouse. Where did his duty lie? And what was he prepared to risk to do what was right?

As it happened, Marguerite took the lead, saving him the stress of choosing between her side and Susan's. She had been thinking, and as selfish as she basically was, she had mellowed over the years since she had met John Roxton. And the Challengers were her best friends. She recalled the occasion in Xochilenque when George and Finn had rescued her and Roxton from a cell where they were held by the fierce Tecamaya, Marguerite soon to be removed to the emperor's harem as Roxton lay severely injured after fighting a man with Aztec sword-clubs in their arena. ( From, "The Crystal Skull of Xochilenque".)

Now, Lady Roxton struggled with herself, greed and genuine longing warring with her sense of decency. Moreover, she knew her man well, and guessed precisely what he was thinking. That he even took her side into consideration out of love for her and his duty to her as her husband warmed her heart. She decided to be noble in more than title. Besides, the District Commissioner might seize the hide and skull as evidence of malignant witchcraft! Knowing what would make her look best in the eyes of everyone, including, damn it, herself, she spoke.

Alas, Veronica took some of the wind out of her sails. Mrs. Malone offered to paint the lion as it had looked in life, with an authentic background. Considering that her talents as a painter were now on par with, perhaps even exceeding those of the celebrated German wildlife artist Wilhelm Kuhnert, this was a significant offer. "I'll give the painting to whichever of you doesn't claim the lion trophy," she promised.

"You'll do nothing of the sort," spoke Marguerite. "If Susan wants the trophy, and I really think it should be hers, John and I will commission you to paint the lion. The art will probably look better in our home than on the wall of George and Finn's little hovel, anyway." She smirked at Finn.

Challenger bristled at her description of his and Finn's really rather elegant home. Finn, knowing that the barb was Marguerite's grumpy way of consoling herself for doing the right thing, pulled him down and whispered into his ear, mollifying him.

"Let's let Susan choose which she wants: the trophy or the painting," suggested Roxton. "If she wants the painting, Marguerite and I will commission another, just different enough to distinguish them. Veronica will be paid for two paintings, and someone will get that admittedly significant hide and skull."

"May I choose, Lady Roxton?" asked Susan." I want you to be happy with my choice. I will not come between you and Mrs. Challenger, as fine a woman as has lived. But if I may select, I want the lion. It and the lioness that was on that hut are my first dangerous game, and they scared the devil out of me. That's my preference, if it won't upset my betters."

"Agreed," said Marguerite. "If that's all right with everyone, that's the way we'll settle this. I won't even try to get a necklace out of Roxton here for being nice about it. But a set of earrings wouldn't be out of place…" She looked teasingly at her man as the others laughed or groaned, according to their natures.

"If you want a set of earrings from me, Madam, you'll need to earn it," replied her mate. "Doing the right thing by Susan is just your duty to decency and to our family honor." But he smiled at her, proud that she had behaved as she had.

"Then I'll earn them, as soon as we have a real room to ourselves for a few days, undisturbed. I wasn't trained as a consummate harlot while that damned sultan owned me for nothing. You'll get your money's worth and change, John. And you can select the earrings. I'll value them more as your gift than if I chose them. You know my tastes, anyway." She pulled him over and rubbed noses. "If you're lucky, I may even butter your bread tonight, if the leopard that I hope to shoot doesn't gnaw off my fingers first."

Roxton pulled her over to him as they left the skinners tent, pressed her body intimately into his, and took her mouth with passion that left her breathless and flushing.

Ned muttered his 'get a room' comment again, this time half seriously, for the Roxtons were going beyond what others should see in public.

Veronica hushed him, but promised him anything that even Marguerite could deliver for a man, plus whatever kinky personal fantasies he could imagine. "I know you, Neddy," she teased. "But tell me what you want, and I'll deliver, I swear. And it won't cost you any jewelry. Just bring me breakfast in bed if I impress you enough."

Finn cleared her throat. These offers by her female companions aroused her spirit of competition. "Look," she reminded everyone. "Mine is the ultimate marriage, the romance of the ages. Genius, just tell me what you'd expect from those 72 virgins that you'd get if you were a dead Muslim, add anything else that occurs to you, and take me to bed. And I'll bring YOU breakfast in bed the next morning. You deserve that for being the greatest husband of all time." She looked up at Challenger, her face glowing around her smile as if a brilliant star lit her from within. She reflected on how wonderful her life had been since her rescue from New Amazonia, and almost cried with happiness as a deeply impressed Challenger took her in his arms and claimed her lips with an eagerness that rivaled what the Roxtons had been doing a moment before.

An embarrassed Diana Hamilton said, rather primly, "Finn, you may be hard put to outdo those 72 virgins, let alone what else George may want."

Finn came up for air. "Diana, they're just virgins. Anything that they could do is only a warm up for me. George deserves that just for starters. By the way, if anyone wants the autograph of the happiest wife to have ever lived, just bring me some paper. I have a pen on me."

Hamilton cleared his throat, aware of his wife's eyes on him. "Well, I think I may be able to discern where the Roxton, the Malone, and the Challenger children came from. But we really should get underway if Finn is to look over some buffalo herds today. Lord Lindemere showed me on the map just where we should look. I know the area well, and we should be able to get a truly impressive head there."

The others agreed and went to their tents for their guns, binoculars, and other personal items. The Africans began loading the hunting cars with food, water, and other essentials of the hunt.

But a freshly armed Veronica dropped by the Challenger tent. She stepped in and said quietly, "Listen, you two. I'm going to paint you a scene of that lion, too. Just don't tell Marguerite. And I'm glad that Susan is getting that hide. She deserves it." And she was gone before George or Finn had time to argue or to thank her.

The trucks warmed up as the hunters stepped aboard, and they were off. The Roxtons had decided to come, although Marguerite wanted to rest after, before she entered the leopard blind that night. Her husband said that they needn't go if she'd rather hang around camp, play cards and doze.

"No way am I missing this buffalo hunt, John. I want one later, too, and want to see how it goes. And I may have to step in and save Finn if it gets rough. George Challenger is a friend of mine, and I mean to keep his wife alive so she can outperform those 72 virgins and whatever other fantasies he has. The poor girl actually fancies that she can make love better then me. But I want them to enjoy her delusions. They're nice people." And she smiled sweetly as Roxton laughed and hugged her.

Stuart Hamilton saw and heard and thought, I wish that all of my clients were as delightful as this group. Life would be so much easier. He looked to be sure that Diana was settled next to him, and they drove off in quest of adventure. They soon found more than he would have wished for.

CHAPTER FIVE

They drove nearly 20 miles before seeing herds of buffalo with a number of shootable bulls, those of true trophy quality. The safari passed over almost a dozen herds, and it was one in the afternoon before they saw The One.

He was huge, Hamilton estimating the horns to definitely be in the range that Finn aspired to. She lay with him atop a low hill with enough vegetation to hide them from any sharp-eyed bovine sentinels. The wind was right, blowing from the buffalo to the hunters. They would not be scented if it held in their favor.

Hamilton looked at Finn and asked, "Want to have a go at that lad? He's as good as I've seen. If there is a larger buffalo in all of Kenya, I don't know where to look for him."

Her heart racing with excitement and fright, Finn nodded. "We have to get a big one soon, or we won't have time to hunt the other species that we want to collect on this trip. George needs some scientific specimens, and we all have other game in mind. We may as well shoot our buff in the next few days and send them back to the taxidermist. But gad, Stuart, how big is that bull? I swear that he's on par with Charles's, maybe larger." She struggled to isolate the big bull as he wandered with the herd, grazing. There were over 100 buffalo in that herd, and she didn't want to lose sight of this one.

"If he doesn't reach 60 inches or come very close, I'll be very surprised, and I've seen very many Cape buffalo. I think you need to collect this boy. We'll take the car closer, then bail out and stalk the last few hundred yards on foot. If the cars go on past without us, the buff will see them off, then drop their guard, I hope. I'm not at all sure if these animals have ever seen an automobile. This is a rather remote area."

As the car approached the drop-off point, Finn vacillated over her rifle choices. She loved the Holland & Holland .375 Magnum "magazine rifle", as the British called bolt-actions, but was also deeply enamored of her W. & J. Jeffery .450/.400. Its instant second shot might offset the larger capacity of the .375. With the .400 double-barreled model, all she had to do to fire again was to pull the second trigger. The Magnum Mauser bolt action on the H&H took a second or two to operate, and even a second is an eternity when a dangerous animal is headed for the huntress, murder in its heart.

"Johnny, which rifle would you use if you were shooting this buffalo?" Roxton was her closest male companion, a virtual big brother whose advice she valued.

"My old .416," he responded. He had had it refinished after leaving the Plateau and remained very fond of it. "I like the power being on par with the big double rifles, and the extra cartridges in the magazine. I've needed them a few times. You were there for some of them. But use what your instinct tells you is right for the job, here, today, this country and cover. I'd probably take the .400. Stuart will back you up, of course."

Finn nodded, and had the gun bearer take the .375, lest its added ammunition be needed. She would carry the .400. She had killed her first buffalo with it the previous year, stopping a charge by planting a full metal jacketed bullet right at the base of the horn boss. The animal had been chasing native women on Angus Hardy's farm, and had Finn and Susan not shot it, would certainly have killed someone. Inspection of the carcass showed that it had been injured by a black poacher's snare. The badly abraded leg must have driven it mad with pain and lust for revenge.

"Do you want me to come, Ma'am?" asked Susan.

"No. Just Stuart and Jerogi, with the water bottle and my second rifle. No point in endangering anyone else, including you, Genius." She touched her husband in apology, begging him with her eyes to understand.

He looked carefully at her and said, "Very well, Finn. But Susan and I will follow you at about 500 yards, in case we're needed. John and Marguerite can circle the cars and come back, out of sight of that herd. We want the vehicles ready, if needed. Not that a first aid kit and some well meaning friends will be of much help if that buffalo gets to you. Take care, Darling. I don't know what I should do without you. The children and I need you."

She nodded. "I can't say anything that I didn't put in that letter that I wrote to you before Ned and I went off to save Vee from the Tecamaya. But it still applies, maybe even more so, now that we've been together for so long." (This letter, declaring Finn's love for Challenger and their friends is in, "The Crystal Skull of Xoxhilenque". It is an intensely emotional, loving tribute to her man and to their Treehouse family. At the time, it was the longest, most literate thing that Finn had written.)

Challenger hugged her, and she slipped out of the car and into the bush. Susan and Marguerite waved goodbye, and she blew them a kiss as Hamilton led the way into the thorny scrub.

They looked automatically for snakes and uneven ground or rocks that they might trip over. Finn wore khaki trousers that were a more feminine version of what the men wore. The shorts that she loved showing her superb legs in weren't a wise choice in thornbush country, and the sun would burn her if she wore them too often or for too long in one day. Her vanity was pricked by the looser fit of the trousers hiding her shapely butt, which she knew all the men admired. But sometimes, practicality had to take precedence over female pride.

They startled a honey bird that fluttered off, thankfully not shadowing them, trying to entice them to follow it and raid a bees' nest for honey. Legend had it that if the honey guide bird wasn't left some of the comb with larvae, it would next lead those men to a deadly snake instead of a hive. Blacklaws and Hamilton both thought that there might be some truth to this, and the safari had twice been careful to leave the birds their reward when their blacks had raided hives. The honey was welcome, and the whites had enjoyed seeing how it was harvested. They had stayed well back, watching with binoculars as the Africans had smoked out the bees and gathered the raw honey.

Several buffalo looked around carefully after the bird flushed, then returned to grazing. And the stalk resumed.

The hunting cars made a wide loop and dropped off Challenger, Susan, and Moses, a gun bearer with Challenger's Holland & Holland .450 No. 2 double- barreled rifle. George carried a .275 Rigby, and Susan had her .275. Both Challengers and Susan, as well as the Roxtons, had .275's among their rifles, so as to allow exchanging ammunition if need be. The light recoil, the good killing power, and the elegance of the Rigby rifles made them popular among safari hunters and affluent white settlers. The ammunition was also far less expensive than for the big game calibers and more deer-size and elk-size antelope would be shot than elephant, rhino, or buffalo. For these and leopard, the .275 was a fine choice.

Challenger stopped behind a tree, and raised his binocular. He saw his wife, Hamilton, and Jerogi, now well into the buffalo herd, picking their way into position for a clean shot at the huge bull. All seemed well, and he breathed more easily.

He scanned the horizon, curious about the trees and other vegetation. What he saw almost stopped his heart.

Several black men were sneaking along just under the skyline, a few hundred yards from the hunters. The latter were clearly unaware of them. And the men were beyond the herd. Their scent would carry to the buffalo if the wind freshened, causing them to become more wary, or even leave.

The men were sneaking along, not walking normally, and Challenger wondered what they were doing. He called softly to Susan, and she found them in her own binocular. The two exchanged anxious glances, and returned to watching the strange blacks.

One wore a headdress that was probably leopard skin, and the tails of leopards dangled from his waist, over his loincloth. Sitting now on a stump, his elbows braced on his knees for steadiness, Challenger watched through his 10X50 Zeiss glass and saw that in addition to their spears and shields, the men carried something that looked like a clay jar or pot that was oozing smoke. The aroma of the smoke might panic the buffalo, and he hoped that the breeze would carry it away before it was detected by the alert bovines.

Then, the oddly dressed man sent his companions apart for some distance, and they all began yelling and waving brightly colored blankets to startle the animals, who had now scented them as the breeze increased.

Challenger and Susan looked at each other, alarmed. "What do those wogs think they're playing at?" asked Susan. "And look, Professor! They're about to set a fire with that little pot thing. Mrs. Challenger and the others will be burned alive!"

She had no more than spoken when they heard the CRASH! of Finn's rifle. She fired a second shot into the brain of the big bull, and it dropped dead. But the herd was beginning to mill around and bellow, and seemed on the verge of stampeding. One big bull saw the hunters and went straight for them. Stuart Hamilton dropped it with a shot into the nose with his double .500. That shot angle put the heavy bullet right into the brain.

The hunters reloaded, and Hamilton pulled Finn and Jerogi behind a termite hill, where they sheltered as a true stampede started. They registered the men above them now, and could be seen looking around the sides of the tall termite mound.

"By Jove, those beggars started that stampede deliberately, and they're about to get a fire going!" shouted Challenger. He lowered his binocular and lifted his rifle.

Aiming somewhat above the African man in charge, whom he now recognized to be wearing the trappings of a witch doctor, he fired!

The witch doctor flinched as a bullet snapped past a few feet over his head. He looked around, panicked, wondering if a tree had had a limb fall off, as in a storm. One of his henchmen looked at the sky, although the crack of the passing bullet hadn't really sounded like thunder.

A second bullet smashed into a tree slightly above the covert trio, and the witch doctor, who had some knowledge of white men, realized what was happening. He frantically searched the ground below, at first thinking that the hunters whom he was trying to kill with the stampede or fire had seen him. But they were looking around, also confused. They stayed behind the termite mound as the masses of buffalo surged past in thunderous passage.

Then, he saw the two whites much further back. As he registered them, Susan's first shot hit a fallen tree trunk in front of him and ricocheted away with a nasty snarl. Wood chips blown off the trunk stung him. Susan, not realizing that Challenger was firing above the men, trying to frighten them off, was shooting to kill. Her beloved boss and heroine and their friends were in danger from these men, and she meant to save them.

Her second bullet whipped through the red toga-like garment worn by one tall man, and the trio bolted, taking the fire pot with them. They were soon out of sight in a large patch of forest.

Challenger asked whether Susan had been trying to hit the interlopers, and when she confirmed his suspicion, he shook his head in concern.

"I'm not sure where we should stand legally, had we shot them," he admitted. "They were trying to stampede that herd, and setting a fire there would be raw murder. Damn civilized laws! On the South American plateau where Finn and I met, we could have killed these rascals and had no concerns with legalities. I say: here come the cars. We'd better get aboard and clear of this stampede. Finn and the others will probably be all right behind that hill. We can return for them when the dust settles."

And they leaped aboard a car as Roxton slowed it and Marguerite urged them aboard. Roxton accelerated and they were soon safely away from the stampede. But Challenger, despite what he'd said about the termite mound, was deathly afraid for his mate and her companions.

All ended well, with the three hunters emerging safely from the stampede. They waited until the last of the heavy beasts had rushed past, and the dust began to settle. Finn gasped as she cleared her lungs, and they passed around the water bottle that Jerogi carried.

Finn insisted on walking over to the great bull that she had shot, and exclaimed at the size of the horns. Stuart Hamilton drew out his tape measure and declared with considerable glee that they reached 58 inches, tip-to-tip. "That is a BIG buffalo!" he exulted. "Finn, you have shot the largest buffalo that any client of mine has ever taken. Congratulations!" And he shook her hand as she grinned as widely as her lips would stretch. The blonde huntress was clearly delighted with the bull of her dreams.

Hamilton's bull was also large, at 56 inches. "I hadn't fancied shooting him, but he made the decision for me," he said, with a touch of sadness. "Still, this is the second largest buff that I've shot, and I'm happy to have him. Just glad that he didn't get to us before he dropped. Now, did either of you see some men up on the ridge, waving blankets and shouting? I think I heard them just after Finn fired at the Black Behemoth here." He indicated the sable hide of the huge buffalo.

_"N'dio, Bwana_, I heard these men," nodded Jerogi. "I think one had the headdress of a witch doctor and the tails of leopards around his waist. The men with him wore red togas and waved the same, and a green or blue one. And their smell drifted down to anger and frighten M'bogos (buffalo) . I think these men wanted to kill us. I think this is payback for shooting _juju_ lions." He looked solemn and a little uneasy.

Finn seemed thoughtful. "I know that I heard shooting other than us. It sounded like it came from several hundred yards that way, behind us." She gestured. "Back where the Genius and Susan were going to wait." She looked anxiously at that area, glassing it with her binocular. She was furious about the reddish dust having gotten on the instrument and resolved to clean it meticulously in camp, being very careful not to scratch the finely polished lenses with even a single grain of the abrasive dust.

Then, the cars came, as rapidly as they could, while being alert for ant bear holes, low stumps, rocks, or other obstacles.

"Ahoy, anyone like a ride?" called Roxton.

His wife was more to the point. "Do you realize that some men up that slope panicked that herd? And they were about to set a fire when George and Susan drove them off with bullets! Are you all right?"

The three buffalo hunters assured the others that they were well, although Finn muttered that it might take her a month to get all the dust out of her lungs. The herd had raised ample clouds of it as they ran.

Diana bounded from the second car and ran to Hamilton. Seizing him with both arms, she hugged him as if he had just saved her from an awful fate. Perhaps he had, for by surviving the stampede and the attack of the second black bull, he had spared her the agony of widowhood. He held her, murmuring soothing sounds as Veronica and Holly came over and comforted his young wife.

Challenger took Finn in his arms and told her how relieved he was to have her back safely. Susan was more picturesque.

"Mrs. Challenger, for us, the sky almost fell. Thank God, you're all right." She wiped a tear from her right eye, trying to compose herself.

Finn and Stuart thanked the riflepersons whose skill had spared them. Fire in the dry grass would have surely taken their lives.

"I'm going to find out who those kaffirs were, and they are going to rue this day," swore an incensed Geoff Blacklaws. Holly took his hand and nodded. Privately, she was relieved that the hunter with Finn hadn't been Geoff.

"Bwana, this is _juju_ business," reminded Jerogi. "Boys not happy. We best get buffalos back to camp. Much meat. Good meat, _n'yama m'zuri sana."_ He smiled a little at the thought of so much fine meat. But he was worried that something terrible might befall them if they stayed here long enough for the men whom their shots had seen off to return. Their next visit might not end as well.

The trucks came up, with the skinners and the winches. And the massive carcasses were loaded as expeditiously as they could be. No one wanted to linger. Even Susan hurried with her photos of Finn and Hamilton with the trophy animals.

On the way back to camp, the group paused at the Tremayne safari to warn Charles and Felicity and their hunter. That couple were shocked to hear of the near tragedy with the buffalo hunt.

"Buffs are dangerous to hunt, anyway," declared Charles Tremayne, Lord Lindemere. "That other bumpf was quite intolerable. I shall speak to the DC about this. I was at school with his older brother. John is a good fellow, if a trifle stuffy at times. That runs in his family. I say, you lot must have met him last year, during that slavery thing?" He looked to his half sister.

Marguerite nodded. "He was instrumental in saving Holly, Susan, and Veronica. They were all set to be shipped off to Amarrah in chains when we arrived with Sir John and his help. But he was a bit stuffy. I quite wanted to shoot some of those Arab chaps, but he insisted on taking them alive. Their trials were a waste of good money, if you ask me. Not that he did." She sniffed, still piqued, although she certainly knew that the District Commissioner had actually taken a fairly charitable view of Finn shooting one fleeing slaver and Marguerite killing another, who had betrayed her and the other women in camp, Diana and Veronica. (See, "On Safari" on this very board.)

"You got to stab two other Arabs," Finn pointed out, trying not to smile. She agreed with Marguerite, but was amused by her brunette friend's drama.

"And I bloody well earned the right to do that!" snapped Marguerite. "What those bastards did to Vee, Diana, and me warranted it, in spades. Poor Vee was especially badly treated, having to dance for those half-civilized heathens, not to mention being whipped by them and having to do other things that I won't mention."

"Thanks," Veronica commented dryly. "I'd just as soon that you hadn't mentioned what you did. I'm still trying to deal with the memories of that little adventure. Ned has to hold me when I wake up shivering because I dreamed about it."

"That's the only good side of that episode," teased Ned. "It gets Veronica into my arms more often."

Holly, Susan, and Diana looked at one another, and some signal passed between them. They also did not want to relive the horror of that kidnapping.

"Well, look," said Blacklaws, returning to the matter at hand. "We think that you and Lady Lindemere should consider joining our safari until we're out of this region. Those wogs may be planning some other foul deed. They'll want to stop us from reporting to the DC. As soon as we finish treating the trophies and Marguerite has her leopard hunt tonight, we'll bash off to his headquarters. Sir John can radio for a battalion of the KAR in case things turn violent. And he may be able to coax someone to turn in those black gentlemen who tried to incinerate Finn and Stuart."

"We'll send Marguerite after them," quipped Diana. "She is, after all, rumored to be the reincarnation of the Druid priestess Morrighan, and a sorceress in her own right."

Joseph heard, and his eyes grew round and wide. He was a Somali Muslim, not as superstitious as some Africans, but he was still a black, and not immune to the effects of witchcraft. "Mem'Sahib Marguerite, please do not speak of this in camp. Other boys will be very upset._ Juju _very strong medicine. Not best to be making jokes of it." He looked very serious.

"Who's joking?" retorted Marguerite. "I mean to cast a spell to confound this witch doctor. Tell the boys that they needn't be concerned. My own medicine is very powerful. And if that doesn't work, I'll find the bastard, shoot him, and put his head on my den wall."

Joseph gave her a reproachful look and went to consult with the headman of the Tremayne safari. Perhaps he could learn how uneasy their boys were. Talk of _juju_ would surely have reached them by now.

Charles looked at Felicity. "Darling, do we want to join Marguerite and John and their friends? Might be good sense, in view of what happened today."

She nodded, and they made plans to move camp to the larger one, providing a common defense should trouble occur.

But as angry as Marguerite was at whoever had tried to stampede the buffalo, her main fear was how she would fare this night as she waited for a big tom leopard to come to her antelope bait. Witch doctor or not, she meant to have that leopard. And to have the knowledge that she was bold enough to try for it!

They ate a late lunch, after which Marguerite slept for two hours in her tent, or tried to sleep. Her nerves tingled, keeping her from full slumber. Whatever this witch doctor was up to only added to her natural anxiety over encountering a leopard on its own ground.

She had heard the lectures from her husband and their hunters, the horror stories from Diana, who had heard them from her father and their neighbors and other Kenya residents. She had watched with annoyance as Finn sat enchanted, absorbing these tales, asking questions, making notes for her books. For Finn, this was like taking vitamins or having adventures. Marguerite felt left out as her blonde friend and her husband had sat, sharing their love for the chase and for nature. Marguerite would endure such things, but her element was more that of five-star hotels and superb restaurants, shops catering to very affluent women, and especially, the showcases of jewelers. In London, she dragged John to Van Cleef and Arpels and to DeBeers showrooms, and to fittings for ball gowns. To Harrod's and the other big-name department stores...And she delighted in shopping at Fortnum & Mason when she wanted a step up from Harrod's. She especially enjoyed Fortnum's famed food and wine offerings.

She was only mildly interested when John took her to Rigby's, Holland & Holland, Purdey's, or to the agents for Webley & Scott, Colt, Smith & Wesson, and other gun makers and importers. She often begged off and spent a morning with female friends, meeting John and Finn for lunch. If she went to a gun or tackle shop with them, she would frequently find other women with whom to talk fashion and to gossip as their men fondled Hardy or Pfleuger fly rods and reels or discussed line diameters, dressings and lures. She had thought that a Royal Coachman was some lackey who rode on the King's carriage at the opening of Parliament. To John, the Challengers, and to Marguerite's half-brother, Charles Tremayne, it was some silly pattern of dry fly, intended to attract trout to their doom. At least it was colorful, with a bright red body to complement the green and black trim…

Marguerite had found a new friend in Felicity Tremayne, Lady Lindemere. The women often shopped together, or when joined by their men, the ladies could amuse themselves while the men bought cartridges, pistols, binoculars, or hunting boots. Even that wasn't infallible, for Felicity enjoyed shooting and fishing with Charles, and they were a close-knit couple. Sometimes, she was as bad as Finn about talking guns and fishing rods and hooks. But Marguerite realized that when this happened, Finn and Felicity usually tried to include her in the conversations. Sometimes, Challenger took her for tea while their spouses argued the merits of the British .275 against the new American .270 Winchester rifle. And sometimes, even Marguerite was interested, for she did enjoy at least some hunting and angling. It just wasn't as much an obsession to her as it was to her closest friends and to her husband.

She had wanted to come on safari again more than she had let on, for she loved the aloneness in this vast land, where she could look up at the black sky with its myriad galaxies of stars and concede that there probably was a God, and that this was prime evidence of His handiwork. Then, she'd remember to thank Him for sending John and the others to her, she no longer the orphan child, now loved by so many who had become dear to her. Well, by several...

But now, preparing to go forth and face an elusive, very dangerous big cat on its own turf, she mentally muttered to herself, How do I get myself into these things? Yet, she knew a quickening of the blood, a rush of adrenaline to not only her heart, but to her soul. Life became fuller, and she relished the living of it, despite her trepidation.

She moaned as John shook her from her sleepy reverie, pulling the sheet off of her and smacking her periwinkle satin-clad behind to rouse her.

"Ouch!" she protested. "I'll have you know that that's the Countess of Avebury's bum that you're taking liberties with. You'd better be who I think you are!" She turned, and of course, it was her mate whose hand had enjoyed playful contact with her brief knickers.

"If you weren't about to have tea and go slay a big leopard, I'd fancy taking a good deal more liberties with you, Countess," he teased. "Up and at it, Marguerite! Blacklaws is having some sandwiches and tea laid out for us. Then, you're off on your grand adventure."

He seems pretty chipper for a man whose wife is about to go in harm's way, she thought. But he's so damned handsome and so boyishly thrilled for me that I'd better not razz him about it. And I have no desire for Felicity or Finn to acquit themselves better than I can when it's their turns to do this. Thankfully, Veronica is content to pass on shooting a leopard on this trip, unless one practically falls into her lap, like one did last year. But my close friends, F&F, can barely wait until it's their turns to do this.

She stumbled out of bed, wearing only the elegant panties with the hand sewn lace trim, and donned her hunting clothes. Beige demi-bra. Khaki shirt, less likely than white to draw the leopard's eye, matching trousers like Finn's of the morning hunt, less restrictive than jodhpurs and more protective than a skirt. Probably good not to show the leopard any of her splendid legs, too, although he might be more interested in biting them than in staring, like men would.

What if some cursed bug gets up my trousers? she speculated. Wouldn't a skirt make it easier to find and dispose of multi-legged creatures who should have the basic decency not to crawl up a lady's leg in the first place? What am I supposed to do, crush it in the cloth of the trousers, then stand up and hop until the juicy carcass drops off my leg and down my pants? Geoff will love that! If it happens, and he tells John, I will be mercilessly ribbed for the rest of the safari, especially if Veronica hears of it. Then, it struck her that Finn would just smile and hold her hand and tell her how glad she was that the bug hadn't been something really awful, like the nasty scorpions that they had in this primitive country. Some were reputed to be as dangerous as cobras!

Marguerite smiled at that, her heart warmed at how close she and Finnykins had become. Both had walked rocky roads until meeting their common friends and their spouses, and it was Finn who had shown her such immediate compassion and love when Marguerite had told her and Veronica the truth of her slavery at the hands of the (now late) Sultan of Ammarah. (See, "A Prisoner of the Sultan, or, How Marguerite Learned to Dance" on this board.)

She buckled on her gun belt. In addition to her Smith & Wesson .38 revolver, it held a leather pouch for a compass, spare ammunition, and a hunting knife that John had had made to his specifications by one of the finest cutlers in Sheffield. If the leopard got into the thornbush blind and she and Geoff couldn't shoot for fear of hitting one another, this small Bowie knife with its keen six-inch blade might be all that stood between her and death. She drew the knife and tested the edge. Sharp! Like me, she laughed.

Someone rapped on the canvas doors of the tent. Thinking that it was John, come to hurry her along, she opened the flap to find Finn and Felicity (F&F), Finn's girl Susan, and Holly Delaterre Blacklaws.

Finn spoke for them: "Hi, Marguerite. We just wanted to say how much we'll be pulling for you tonight, and to let you know that we'll wait in one of the other cars about half a mile from you and Geoff. If we hear you shoot, we'll come. If you've killed the cat, fine. If not, it'll either be gone and our showing up won't matter, or it'll be wounded and have gone into cover and you and Geoff will need us."

Marguerite looked at each of them, and then hugged them, one by one. "Do the men know?" she asked. "They might have a few words to say if they know that you girls are out there on your own. Finny, George would have a coronary if he misses you and thinks that you're lost or missing!"

"No worries, Marguerite," said Holly. "George, Charles, and John are coming, too. And a couple of gun bearers, to hold torches aloft if the cat gets into cover. Geoff will have to go in after it if you wound, so don't do that. But if you do, one of the lads will go with him. One will watch left and the other to the right. Finny wanted to come, but George said no. As in, really NO." She grinned at an embarrassed Mrs. Challenger.

"One of the problems with having the Romance of the Ages is that your husband won't let you take any chances that he thinks are too risky," muttered Finn, to the other women's' laughter.

"Come on," said Felicity. "We've got a snack ready, thanks to Joseph and the Earl of Sandwich, whose idea the concept was. No alcohol, though. We'll toast you when we get back. But there's tea. With tea, we can conquer the world, let alone a mere leopard. We're British."

"Not all of us are," declared Ned Malone as he and his wife walked over. "We just came from the skinners' tent, Finn. Your big buff is coming along well. Veronica and I are staying here, in case anything happens. But we'll pray for you, and be thinking of you. We'll hold dinner for your return. You have to be back soon after dark, anyway. No one stays out there at night. The lions and the snakes and the hyenas own the night."

"Not in my tent they don't," Marguerite observed. "Roxton and I have an exclusive say on what happens in there. If I get that leopard or just get back alive, I expect him to romance me tonight. The lions and hyenas and snakes can go stuff themselves. If they bother us, the taxidermist can stuff them, for real! Let's eat and go." She looked at the sun. They would have to leave soon.

She patted her pockets to be sure that she had her handkerchief, matches, and the Swiss Army utility pocketknife that Finn had given her*, and they headed for the table.

John sat by her, and held her hand for half the time that they ate. When they rose to go to the truck, he brought her rifles over, the two that she would choose from that night. He loaded them into the car, with water bags, spare ammunition, and the large first-aid kit.

They got aboard the trucks, and Blacklaws looked back to be sure that they were clear of others. He started his engine, and said, "Well, children, this will be more fun than Christmas. Shall we?" He put the vehicle in gear, and they were off!

(* Historical note: This is not the knife that Finn had with her in New Amazonia, in my previous Fics, with the red plastic handle scales, so familiar to most of us today. When she reached Britain and settled in as Mrs. George Challenger, she vacationed in Switzerland and brought back a dozen of the knives as they were then made, with red fiber handles. By 1909, the silver Swiss cross inlay was in use, as it is today. The blades were stainless from 1923-on. She kept several, giving the rest to her closest friends. Finn knew the value of a good knife as the primary survival tool. When she gave one, she gave it from her heart.)

When they reached the prepared thorn "blind" where the hunters would await the arrival of a leopard, Marguerite and Blacklaws bailed out of their car and slipped into the blind as quickly and quietly as possible. Then, they moved a bush over the entrance, concealing themselves. They arranged themselves as comfortably as possible, Marguerite sitting on a blanket to keep her bottom off the ground, which had been swept clean of thorns, small rocks, and other uncomfortable objects.

They set their canteens beside them, and arranged their rifles. Marguerite had selected her .275 Rigby, which had a 4X telescopic sight. Not only did this let her see her quarry four times larger than otherwise; it gathered more light than the human eye at dusk. This allowed taking a shot later than would otherwise be possible. However, Blacklaws counseled against shooting if the light had begun to fade. "If that blighter is wounded, I don't want us to be stuck out here in the dark with him."

He erected a pair of sticks, crossed near the tips to allow a rest for her rifle. "Leave it alone until we see the cat," he cautioned. "Then, raise the rifle as slowly and carefully as possible until you're on target."

He wore his Colt .45 New Service revolver, something that he seldom did, unless there was reason to suspect unrest among the natives. Normally, he kept it at his bedside in camp, ready if something broke into his tent. But here, in such close quarters, if he was unable to maneuver his .375 H&H Magnum rifle, he would welcome the handiness of the sidearm. And a well-directed .45 bullet could kill a leopard. He also had a sheath knife with a seven-inch blade. "That's to let me see whether Tarzan could actually stab big cats trying to eat him," he explained. "But if you shoot well, I'll be happy to forego the opportunity to experiment on this occasion."

Marguerite laughed softly. She liked Geoff Blacklaws, with his droll humor and vast knowledge of animals and nature, and his ability to play a very creditable game of bridge. One reason why she had wanted to return to Kenya was to see Geoff and his charming, witty wife Holly again. Geoff was 32, Holly just 19, but they seemed very happy. Holly had admired him for years, knowing his reputation as a dashing white hunter. When he had been among those rescuing her from the slavers of the year before, she had decided to see if she could win his heart. She had, and Blacklaws told friends that if his days as a bachelor were to end, at least he had chosen a girl who was very easy on the male eye, who was also a good conversationalist and who enjoyed joining him in the bush when he wasn't leading safaris.

Now, he reminded Marguerite not to make any unnecessary sound. "If I point to something, I won't lift my arm," he whispered. "I'll just sort of aim my lips at it."

She nodded, the potentially grim reality of the situation scaring her a little. But she was also thrilled. She settled in as well as possible, and they waited as the tropical sun inched its way across the afternoon sky.

Time passed slowly, but Marguerite had no idea how slowly it crept, for they had left their watches in the car, lest the very alert cat hear them ticking if it walked nearby. Geoff had insisted that this wasn't a joke, and Marguerite had complied, to her friends' amusement. But she noticed Finn taking this in and filing it for future reference. She teased Finn for being blonde, but Marguerite never for a moment disrespected her companion's true intellect. Finn was of well above average intelligence, with a passion for the hunt. And she was a natural survivor. Not much got past her. This would probably be in her next book. In fact, Susan was writing it in her notes even as Finn turned to tell her to do that. Susan was also bright and attentive. They made a good team.

Marguerite half dozed then jerked awake as Blacklaws nudged her and shot her a disapproving look. She tossed her head in irritation, half at Geoff and the rest at herself. Some damned bird began making monotonous calls. Marguerite remembered reading something about a brain fever bird, said to drive men daft if they listened to its call for long enough.

Other bush sounds came and went, and she wondered what they were. Later, she would ask Geoff, but Marguerite wondered how she'd describe the noises that she wanted explained. Then, she heard a soft shuffle of big feet, and there they were, about thirty yards out in front: elephant! Three big bulls, shambling along, sniffing suspiciously at the ground. Then, one saw the kill hung in a tree, to attract the leopard. Half of an impala, lodged tightly between two branches, high enough to keep it away from lions and hyenas.

When the breeze was right, Marguerite could smell it and the effect that sitting in the sun had had on it.

The three elephants also smelled it. They wandered over and grumbled about it, low noises in their chests and from their stomachs, digesting their diet of rough forage. One trumpeted disapprovingly, and then they moved off. Marguerite breathed again, thankful that the wind had been from the elephants to the hunters. She didn't fancy seeing what would happen if they had been detected. She heard Geoff let out a tense sigh, and knew that her concern had been justified.

Finally, as twilight shadows encroached to the point that Marguerite knew that their friends would soon come for them, noises close around them stopped. She heard nothing, but an electric element tingled in her extrasensory zone, and she looked carefully into the fork of the tree where the bait rested

Unsure at first what she was seeing, Marguerite looked at Blacklaws to determine if he had seen anything. He turned carefully to her and nodded.

She lifted the rifle, settling the stock in the fork of the crossed sticks, to hold it steady. When she peered through the 4X telescopic sight, she looked into the green-gold eyes of the leopard! Initially, she thought the cat was looking right at her. Magnified four times by the precise German optics, the eyes looked like the open gates of Hell. Then, the head turned as it studied the area, and it began to feed on the maggot-studded meat of the dead impala.

Marguerite took careful pressure on the trigger, settling the crosshairs in the scope on the base of the spotted neck. She wanted a shoulder shot, to break the animal down and help prevent a lightning attack if it came for them. But the tree obscured most of the beast, so she had to shoot at what she could focus on. With luck, the bullet would strike the spine, dropping the leopard at once.

BLAM! The sound of the rifle firing was so loud that she flinched, hopefully after the bullet had left the bore of the handsome Rigby. She barely registered the modest recoil, but the blast in the evening stillness shocked her.

Everything was as silent as a platoon of soldiers just asked for volunteers. Then she heard a faint scratching sound as the body of the leopard slid backwards off the tree and a loud thump! as it hit the ground.

"When they fall that hard, they've usually bought it," whispered Geoff. "But let's sit just a bit and await developments. Go ahead and reload; cycle the bolt."

Marguerite operated the rifle, sliding another 140 grain high velocity cartridge into the chamber, feeling good as she turned down the bolt handle. So far, no further noise from the base of the tree…

Finally, Geoff said, "Right. Let's get over there and see if it's dead. The light is fading fast. I don't fancy looking for a possibly wounded leopard in the dark."

He pulled open the bush-blocked door of the blind and slipped out, covering Marguerite's exit, in case the cat came for them at this crucial time, as their cramped legs protested their standing.

Both free of the thorn blind, they stretched a little, then walked forward, rifles ready. In the distance, they heard the cars approaching.

Suddenly, there was a blur of motion to their right oblique, and they heard grass moving as something came straight for them. Another leopard! And it was making that horrible, frightening, coughing roar! It meant business, and they might not have time to raise a rifle before it was onto them!

Geoff fired instinctively from the hip, the muzzle of his rifle almost touching the leopard as it launched a leap at his client.

Marguerite screamed and tripped over a rock. The leopard missed her, for it had meant to connect with her standing figure. She rolled over and sat up, shouldering the Rigby and putting a bullet into the base of the big cat's throat. The well constructed bullet zipped through cartilage and flesh, exiting the neck vertebrae after smashing the spinal cord.

The leopard dropped, but Geoff clobbered its near shoulder with another .375 Magnum bullet from his treasured Holland & Holland.

He shined a flashlight on the dead cat, noting that his first shot had broken the right hip as it leaped. This had probably saved Marguerite from a mauling or worse.

He shook one hand after the other, making sure that all of his limbs functioned. The recoil of the heavy rifle fired from his waist hadn't been as bad as he'd feared, but his forearm and hand nerves tingled slightly.

He shook his hands a little more, and then fumbled for spare cartridges in the loops sewn onto his hunting jacket. As he reloaded the H&H, he reminded Marguerite to load her magazine, also. But she was already doing that, stuffing in two fresh rounds from the flat yellow box of Kynoch ammunition that she carried in a jacket pocket.

"I'm way ahead of you, Geoff," she quipped. "Even Finny and Veronica, let alone Susan, would be smart enough to reload a rifle, not knowing what's likely to erupt next from that long grass."

Blacklaws was baffled for a few seconds. He knew that the other ladies handled their weapons well, and Finn was almost fanatic about keeping her guns clean and well oiled. She would certainly reload as soon as possible. Then, he got it: "Ah. Blonde joke, eh?" He knew that the girls had been at that again before they'd left camp. Their frequent banter about their respective hair colors amused him. His wife and Diana Hamilton being brunettes gave Marguerite allies on this trip.

"Forgive me," asked Marguerite. "I know we should be taking this situation seriously, but I deal with stress by making bad jokes. Finn is probably worse about it, though. I hope that she remembered to bring a flask of tea. I could do with some."

"I'll see that you get more than tea, once we're in camp and the guns are unloaded," promised the white hunter. "I think we've just earned a nice tall glass of Scotch apiece."

"Too right," exclaimed Lady Roxton. She had recently hosted Mick Waring and his bride, Sheila, whom she had met at the Lindemere estate, when learning of her inheritance. (See, "Murder in a Stately Mansion".) She had picked up some of Waring's Australian expressions, to her husband's amusement.

Their rifles fully loaded, the pair of hunters crept carefully over to the base of the tree. A few yards away, they found the first leopard, stone dead. Marguerite's bullet had entered it where the neck joined the shoulder, and had ranged deeply in, then up. The fierce golden eyes reflected Geoff's flashlight, still looking to Marguerite like portals to Satan's realm. But most of the light had gone out of them, and she breathed deeply and shouldered her rifle on its fine leather sling. First, she turned the safety lever over to the "On" position. Roxton had trained her well, years ago, on that awful Plateau where they had met and eventually fallen in love.

Blacklaws noticed and approved, although he said nothing. He was gaining more respect for the Countess of Avebury with each passing day. Even her wry, sarcastic humor was much like his own. He thought that Lord Roxton was probably a lucky man to have her.

They walked over and signaled to the trucks where to park, glad of reinforcements in case anything else unexpected arose. Marguerite was happy to see John and her friends as the African night descended.

"Well," called her husband. "Have any luck, or were you two shooting at ghosts?"

"Bloody ghosts, my arse!" exclaimed the Countess. She saw Challenger and Holly wince at her profanity, and Diana rolled her eyes in exasperation. Finn tried to keep a straight face, for she knew how her husband would react to this unladylike behavior.

"As bad as that?" asked Roxton, embarrassed at Marguerite's outburst. But he knew that something must have happened to raise her ire. He hoped that it wasn't a wounded leopard that would need to be tracked down in the dark.

His wife and Blacklaws soon filled everyone in on what had happened, and they carefully loaded the two leopards into the back of a truck. The gun bearers and skinners praised Marguerite. "_Piga m'zuri sana, Mem'Sahib!"_ one gushed. Very good shot, lady.

"_Kuisha! Kuisha!"_ chanted another. _Kuisha._ Finished. As in dead. Marguerite was glad that the African meant the big cats, not her or Geoff. It had been close, with that charge. Had she not fallen, she would have probably had an arm shredded by the sharp claws that N'Jerogi was now displaying under the beam of Finn's flashlight. The decaying meat on them was almost guaranteed to give a mauling victim gangrene or blood poisoning, or just a nasty, often fatal, infection. Antibiotics were something yet to come, apart from what Challenger created.

Marguerite looked at those claws and at the long, sharp teeth that Kimathi was now showing to her friends, and shuddered. John Roxton held her, snuggled her to him, and kissed her.

"Behold the huntress! Darling, it goes without saying how proud I am of you!"

"Does not!" she protested. "I fully expect to hear how proud you are, and I want that tea that Finny said she was packing. Better serve Geoff a cup, too. We went through a short, savage, nightmare this evening. I'll think of that every time I pass that second cat, mounted in our gun room at Avebury! Mind you, I want a full mount, not just the hide on the wall. You have enough of those up already."

"Consider yourself effusively praised then," Roxton grinned. "I say, Geoff: we did bring tea. Want a cup?"

He did, and was accepting it when one of the Africans stopped dead in what he was doing, looking over the second, larger, leopard. Roxton aimed his light at the ear that the man had been holding. It held an ivory ring, much like a native earring. The African began shaking and his eyes grew as large as full moons. "_Juju!"_ he hissed, and he jumped off of the truck.

""Upon my word!" muttered Challenger. ""How on Earth did THAT get there?"

"A damned witch doctor is how," snarled Hamilton. "Tell me again, Geoff, Marguerite: just how did this second cat come at you?"

They told him, and the hunters decided that the first leopard had been poaching on the impala that had probably been claimed by the second, larger animal. The larger one had seen the first on "his" kill, and had been slipping up to attack it when Marguerite had fired at his intended enemy. It had probably been a territorial dispute. Or, maybe the bigger one had just hoped to rob the smaller of an easy meal.

"Well, I must say, I am very glad that both of you came through this all right," said Holly. She poured her man a second cup of tea, Geoff having hurriedly downed the first. He looked a bit pale.

Marguerite was amused. "Stop gulping, Geoff," she teased. "Watch me. I'll show you how to drink tea in a ladylike manner."

"Mirth aside, all, we'd better get these cats and ourselves home for the night," said Stuart Hamilton. "I don't want to wind up with a tire stuck in an ant bear hole. The light is about gone." He looked with concern at the sky, sipping his own tea.

They put the Africans in one truck, the dead leopards in the other, and the whites in the hunting car, save that Hamilton and Diana drove in one truck. Virtually their entire party had turned out to recover Marguerite and Blacklaws. Hamilton had decided that it was best not to leave any white women in camp by themselves. Only Veronica had insisted on remaining, with Ned Malone. Usually, she was adamant about not being the only woman left behind. Not only did she fear slavers; she had little Swahili and basically distrusted Africans, even if she could speak to them. They were a far cry from her Zanga Indian friends in Brazil, and she was just getting used to them and how they might think.

At dinner a bit over an hour later, a freshly washed Marguerite Roxton basked in the praise that she received from her friends. She savored a glass of Dewar's scotch and soda, accepting her husband's compliments. Blacklaws was also honored for his quick shot from the hip that had diverted the charging leopard before it reached his lovely client.

Supper was roasted francolin partridge, followed by Thomson's gazelle steaks. "No fish, I'm afraid, but we'll be at a river in a few days, and you can get out the tackle and try for bream (tilapia) and Tiger Fish to maybe 20 pounds." Hamilton knew that most of them liked to fish.

"Are these sweet potatoes?" asked Ned Malone, picking with his fork at a vegetable on his plate.

"Probably," agreed Holly. "Daddy raises those. We call them yams. I think it's what you Yanks know as sweet potatoes. Something very similar. Not sure; I don't speak American too well." She grinned at Ned, to Veronica's mild irritation.

"Ease off, Holly," she said. "I'm well on my way to being American, too."

"You look American," agreed Roxton, his eyes twinkling. "Sound it, too. Ned, want to try out your .270 on bushbuck tomorrow? We should be passing through some forested land that likely will hold a lot of them. Maybe some duiker, too."

And they were off on to which species to hunt next.

Before long, Marguerite excused herself to visit the ladies room, which was in a tent some distance from the dining area.

"I'll join you. We can talk about the men behind their backs," teased Finn.

The women all laughed, and the two went off to tend to their need.

Talk turned to the ivory ring in the leopard's ear. "Leopards are very independent animals," observed Malone. "How do you suppose that a witch doctor can control one?"

"Probably shot one with a dart laden with some sleeping potion or put the drug in some bait meat, then pierced its ear and added the jewelry," opined Blacklaws. "When the cat woke, it'd just go off and leopard about as usual. But if anyone saw it, they'd think that the witch doctor owned it. Very clever, especially as several safaris a year pass through here. A cat that size would stand a fair chance of being shot, and the earring would terrify the African boys on that safari. Of course, it's likely that he's done this to other leopards, too, to enhance the chance of one being seen. Nasty bit of business."

"I wish that Finny and Marguerite would hurry," said Veronica. "I need to visit the same place they went."

"I'll join you when they return," offered Felicity Tremayne, Lady Lindemere. "I've been swilling that iced tea that Ned made."

They were just returning to discussing the _juju_ leopard matter when a shot split the night, the muzzle flash strobing a few yards from the ladies' latrine. Then came a second shot, and they saw their friends returning. Marguerite was reloading her Smith & Wesson .38 as Finn looked anxiously back, her own gun drawn.

"Hey, if anybody is still hungry, Marguerite just shot a puff adder back by where we went to pee." Finn tended to make jokes when she was scared, and a puff adder (_Bitis arietans_) in the path was enough to scare even her! The heavy-bodied viper was among Africa's deadliest snakes, and probably the one which killed more people every year than any other venomous reptile in the area.

They all went to look, flashlights scanning the ground, lest there be another snake. Blacklaws had his .45 in hand as he searched the latrine tent before Felicity and Veronica used it to relieve their swollen bladders. The rest of them gawked at the twitching, dead viper until Joseph came with a panga (machete) to behead it and have a boy take it out into the bush on a stick. The head, he buried about 50 yards from the skinners' tent. The rest, scavengers would take in the night.

"Odd, that," said Lindemere. "I don't recall a snake actually being in a safari camp, other than the one that I heard about Finn shooting last year."

"It did sort of offer excitement with breakfast," Finn admitted. "I wished later that I had let it bite the African guy who almost stepped on it. He turned out to be one of the slavers who stole Vee, Marguerite, and Diana. Pity that I didn't know it at the time. But you're right, Charles. I haven't heard much about snakes in camp out here, either. Geoff?" She looked expectantly at Blacklaws.

Joseph was wiping the serpent's blood off the blade of his panga with a wet cloth. He looked down and said somberly. "_Juju._ Snakes not come much in camp. This is the doing of some witch doctor. Mem'Sahib Marguerite, if you are a _juju_ woman yourself, as some say, make a spell that will protect this camp. It is not good to be here, I think. We must leave soon. Very bad omens, this leopard with the ivory charm in its ear, and now, this snake. Some _mundumugu_ has placed a _thahu_ on this safari." A_ thahu_ was a curse.

Marguerite looked carefully at Joseph. "You're perfectly serious, aren't you?" she finally asked.

He nodded nervously. "N'dio, Mem'Sahib. If the boys see you make a counter curse and believe in your powers, it will be better. But tomorrow, we must leave, or I think the boys will desert. This is very bad business."

"Well, in that case, I suppose that I had better get busy and cast a spell," said the Countess of Avebury.

"How can you do that?" asked Diana Hamilton.

Marguerite smiled grimly. "Hadn't you heard? I'm really the reincarnation of Morrighan, a Druidic priestess. Spells and curses are among my natural talents."

Kimathi, a personal boy, heard her as he passed nearby. His eyes opened wide, the whites showing in the shadows. In moments, every African in camp would know what Marguerite had just said.

"Let's clear the table," said Felicity, striving to keep a straight face. "I say, Marguerite, after you cast this spell, will you speak to my dead aunt for me? I've always wanted to attend a good séance."

Kimathi scurried off to safer quarters...

CHAPTER SIX

As Marguerite Roxton prepared to cast her spell, so did another.

Karanja wa Kamau was a witch doctor of considerable marque. He was secretly renowned among the Kikuyu, who feared him on a wide scale. He had also made considerable inroads into frightening those of other tribes.

It was he who had sought to stampede the buffalo herd over Finn and her hunter. He wanted revenge for Finn and the other ladies shooting his pet lions, which he had carefully trained to regard human flesh as a normal meal. And he hated white people and their government, which frowned on activities such as his.

Karanja liked power, and he hoped to achieve it on a wide scale. His next project was to incite rebellion in the region, and gain control over most of the Africans therein.

He had released two other lions conditioned to feed on people, and waited with interest to see what happened.

And now, he would commit a bit of black magic to promote his reputation and gather followers.

About 50 adherents and a dozen unwilling natives who had been kidnapped and who were being forced to watch, saw the witch doctor at his fearful worst.

Clad in a loincloth of leopard hide, with the tails of the cats forming an overlying "skirt", he had armlets and anklets made of bones, which rattled when he walked and danced. His necklace was made of lions' teeth, alternated with lion claws, and his bracelets were of lion claws. A dagger made from a sharpened hippo tooth was in a sheath of hippo hide, worn on a belt of the same material. It had the handle portion carved in strange, mystical figures, and the end was capped in gold.

He also wore a steel knife, stolen from a white man whom he had killed the year before. The stag antler handle, nickel silver guard, and the stout leather sheath set it apart from native weapons, and it was with this knife that he did any serious cutting. The hippo tooth was mainly to stab victims in sacrificial ceremonies.

He wore a cloak of Colobus monkey skins, liking the effect that the black and white fur offered his image. Like his loincloth and girdle, his cap was leopard skin. He wore a fine gold watch, also in a pouch once part of a leopard's spotted hide. The watch had been badly over-wound, and no longer worked. But he liked it, and had devised a routine in which he held it open, spoke strange incantations over it, and then closed it with a flourish, as if he had uttered a chant of mystical proportions into it for safekeeping. He claimed that it held and transmitted messages and verbal charms into the spirit world. It was the measure of his audiences that most believed this story. Taken overall, with his formidable reputation, Karanja was a frightening man, the madness in his eyes revealing the twisted path to a warped and troubled soul.

Now, he would conduct a ceremony intended to reinforce his hold on his devoted followers, while terrifying others into compliance. Men such as he had practiced and refined the dark arts to the degree that he could command obedience from most blacks in his region. Even those nominally committed to Christianity or to Islam often quaked at his approach, for in their pasts and in their hearts, witchcraft was alive and well. It was too ingrained in their society to be eradicated by a few generations of European government.

And the gulf between the average African and the Briton who ostensibly ruled his world was vast. When British settlers complained that the African "was not yet down from the trees", the comment held too much truth to be dismissed as merely a social slur. It was a shame, but largely true by European standards, and human filth such as Karanja too frequently took advantage of the situation. Tonight, he would again seek to do evil.

xxx

In the safari camp, Marguerite announced that she would need to retire to her tent to prepare for the evening's event. Like Karanja, she knew the value of darkness to enhance her spiritual doings.

She announced that Finn and Veronica were her acolytes and assistants, prompting looks of surprise from those blonde ladies!

Marguerite covered this by telling them that their secret must now be known, that their performance might dispel wickedness and provide protection to the safari, from the clients down to the kitchen _toto. (_Cook's assistant.)

Finn grinned mischievously, sensing a good show to come. She knew that she would be coached for her role, and she loved performing. Especially if she could wear a revealing outfit, playing to her considerable female vanity...Her mind was already turning over possibilities along this line.

Veronica rolled her eyes, but sobered when she caught Marguerite's warning glance. Apparently, this was serious business, to buy them time while their men decided how to deal with the local wizard. Veronica was from a jungle, herself, and understood the effectiveness of such things on the primitive mind. The Zanga and other Indians in her own realm were hardly immune from such beliefs.

She kicked Ned under the table and gave him a look much like what she had just received from her brunette "sister."

Ned gave her a stern look in return, but heard Roxton call to him, asking if he'd like to join several of the clients and their hosts for an afternoon's bird shoot the next day. Roxton sensed what was coming, and had ample faith in Marguerite's ability to craft a suitable show to demonstrate her powers. Well versed in the African mind, he knew what must be done, and had supreme faith in his woman to get it accomplished.

Marguerite gave Felicity a thoughtful look, as the latter brunette tried to keep a straight face while sipping tea. An understanding passed between the sisters-in-law and Felicity tried to avoid laughing as she realized that she was to play a part in the exhibition of Marguerite's dark arts. She could hardly restrain herself from asking more, delighting in the coming diversion. Like her close friend Mrs. Challenger, Felicity Tremayne, Lady Lindemere, had a wicked sense of humor, and a considerable streak of exhibitionism, if circumstances allowed.

As the men talked about shooting birds on the morrow, Marguerite assembled her chosen friends in her tent with a pitcher of limeade as refreshment.

As she told them what was needed, the girls laughed (if softly) or looked disgusted, according to their personalities. Veronica went from disgusted to amused as the plot unfolded. Susan Wilson replaced shock with enchantment. She could hardly believe that white women would do such things, until reminded by Finn that Gypsies and the like performed similar hocus-pocus even in Britain.

"But they're sort of, er, not quite respectable," she pointed out. That was the polite way of expressing a sentiment shared by most of her nationality.

"That only adds to their ability to get simple folk to believe in their antics," countered Felicity. "And if this nonsense will flummox that heathen witch doctor and let us have fun, why not? If nothing else, it will give us a chance to display ourselves and get some appreciative looks from the men." And the girls all laughed, although Susan felt rather self-conscious about the plot.

"Finny, go to the skinners' tent and get George in here," commanded the Countess. "I need some scientific advice from him, and some of his equipment to add to our little show." Challenger was studying the hides and the parasites from the dead leopards in the preparation tent, consulting with Hamilton and the skinners about making more lifelike mounts of the trophies.

He came in a mild huff, having been engrossed in that, but on learning what Marguerite planned, became more jovial. Being told that his participation lent dignity and mysticism to their doings ensured his enthusiasm. Having a glass of the excellent juice and seeing his wife look at him worshipfully as she affectionately stroked his arm soon had him as engrossed in the proceedings as were the others.

Felicity felt a little smug as she suppressed a smile. Men were so easy, if you were an attractive female and made them feel important. She often used Finn's technique on her own husband. Then, the irony struck her: both she and Finn really did think so highly of their men that it was almost a pleasure to humor them in such a way. Good thing that Charles doesn't realize just how much I adore him, she thought, or it would surely go to his head. She blushed and tried to concentrate on what Marguerite was saying that had the other ladies smiling so widely. Even Challenger was chuckling. But what man wouldn't be happy with a girl like Finn on his arm, looking at him that way?!

When the men returned from the skinners tent, where they had admired the impala trophies, they were interested in those that Ned had shot, one with his Winchester .270, the other with his .30'06, built for him by Griffin & Howe on a Springfield M-1903 bolt action. This custom rifle had cost about the same as the equivalent British items used by his companions, and was a special favorite of Ned's.

His wife walked over and hugged him, praising his prowess as a hunter. She knew that Ned needed occasional encouragement to feel fulfilled as a man and as a provider. In fact, he did well in both roles, as long as he didn't compare himself too closely to Roxton or to the professionals like Geoff and Stuart. Men like that would always be a little larger than life to most women, and Ned sensed it. But Blacklaws and Hamilton didn't ride him about it: in fact, they seemed to accept him as a friend as well as a client. If they had married stunning mates, so had he and Ned felt less self-conscious than he once would have. He had long since done much to establish that he was good for more than being hit on the head by villains.

Now, he basked in the glow of Veronica's admiration and Roxton's and Finn's questions about how the rather new .270 had fared against its older brother rifle.

He soon realized that Finn and Vee were walking him off to the side, where they could talk in private. They waved John Roxton over, too, and began briefing the men on what to expect as Marguerite's performance began. Felicity took Charles, the Hamiltons, and Holly Blacklaws away from the blacks and briefed them. Everyone was cautioned to play their roles as if they really believed that Marguerite was a witch.

"Well, she was, but she's better now...most of the time," quipped Ned Malone, raising Roxton's eyebrows.

"Right; we've got it," said Hamilton. He was convinced that what was to ensue would be an amateurish carnival show that would fail to fool the Africans, and might make the British women and Veronica look foolish. But he was too polite to say so. Privately, he thought the ladies just wanted to have a lark, for fun. Holly and Diana also believed this, and joined him and Roger Davenport in getting the guns cleaned and in setting up for the show. The brief African twilight had gone, being replaced by Stygian blackness, with the yelps of wild dogs, the insane giggles of hyenas, and the (hopefully distant) roar of lions to frighten any who found themselves without fire, weapons, or shelter.

Tonight, well armed in a strong camp, they would be alarmed by one of their own, the spouse of their senior member. Morrighan, whose origin rose from the distant Druidic past, would visit them. And her appearance would leave some sober British souls shaken to their cores. The Irish-American Ned Malone might be even more shaken, for he was mildly superstitious, as were many of Celtic descent. It was not only Africans who feared those whose work was done in an absence of light...

xxx

But that number certainly included Africans, and the followers of Karanja gathered before him now as the sun cast its final rays of the day.

Fires were lit and a mat of Americani cloth laid before the witch doctor. He laid out the skulls of various animals, and arranged them in some order known only to himself. As he worked, he mumbled and chanted. He shook and rolled the bones, claiming that they told the future.

Finally, he gave a signal, and four drummers, one at each corner from him, began to beat their council drums. The Drummer of the East began, followed by the Drummer of the West, then those representing North and South, until the thumping of the drums was heard over the savannah for a mile or more.

He made magic smoke from a clay pot, releasing it in clouds in a sequence that heightened the bizarre and incredible function over which he presided.

He stood and offered the smoking pot to the four directions represented by the drummers, symbolizing his coming rule over all the land. He had said in many villages that if the people would rise up and join him, they could cast out the British and rule again. He carefully omitted that most of the tribes of Kenya quaked before the Masai, the Lumbwa, and the Nandi. Not until the King's African Rifles (KAR) and the British-led police had come had most natives been able to sleep with little fear that their shambas would no longer be raided for women and cattle. And so that enemy warriors might wash their spears in the blood of other men, thus affirming their own manhood and their supremacy...

He spoke in a voice filled with flourishes, promising that if those assembled would take his oath of loyalty and drink the blood of the sacrificial victims who quivered before him, the bullets of the white men could do them no harm. And if he ruled, they would have the fattest and the most fertile cattle of any group in the nation.

Each man there would have many maidens in his huts to hoe his crops and to please his lusts. And they would no longer have to pay taxes to the hated King-Emperor across the Big Water that they had never even beheld. These words were greeted with a rumble of satisfaction from the crowd.

A chief who knew the truth about men like Karanja tried to protest and struggled to break his bonds. But a thick stick had been tied between his jaws, that his words not be heard by a fickle people.

After some more mumbo-jumbo and chanting, Karanja had this chief brought before him, with his three favorite wives, the youngest and prettiest.

He had the chief bound upright to a post in the ground, where he was forced to watch what was next. "If you close your eyes, I will have your eyelids sliced off," warned Karanja.

The three stripped wives were led forward, hands tied behind them and elbows bound to their sides. They stood shaking as Karanja and two of his henchmen circled them, tossing spices and bones on the ground, the drums keeping up a low, constant rumble.

Nine chosen men, Karanja's favorite warriors, ritual symbols tied in their hair, bone anklets and necklaces adorning their nude bodies, now danced forth. They shook and jerked and leaped in a wild prance and shuffle that sent terror through the captive women and brought cheers and murmurings from the crowd.

The young women were untied, then bound on the ground beside each other, their wrists and ankles widespread. They moaned and wailed and looked helplessly at their husband, formerly one of the more powerful chiefs in the region.

A cow had been brought forward and ritually slaughtered hours earlier. It was cooking in the background. Grease from this cooking animal was collected and smeared over the three spread-eagled girls and over the nine male dancers as they jerked and cavorted.

Karanja joined the macabre dance, and clacked a pair of human thigh bones as he led the men in the finish of the event. Then, he designated the first three men to use the chief's women as the crowd watched. Ululations rose as the warriors drove into the helpless women, as their man saw, and cried and tried to roar out his rage.

Other things happened in that place that night, some quite like what Mau-Mau terrorist oathings would repeat in the 1950's. But that was yet to come, and Karanja's oath-giving was for his own benefit, not for that of certain politicians with similar ambitions.

What was done there is too vile to repeat here, but had enormous symbolism and power to bond Karanja's followers to him and to his cause.

Blood flowed, and his pet hyenas, kept in a nearby pit, fed well.

And then the cow was done, and his followers ate from it. As each received his meat on broad leaves, his brow was dipped in first human blood, then in grease from the sacrificial cow. An additional oath was sworn, and Karanja swelled with pride as he relished what he had managed to get others to do, hoping that they might share power when he came to it. He looked to the morrow, when he would begin his revolt by marching on the District Commissioner's home and the nearby police post. And he would also deal with this safari whose women- women! - had slain his pet lions.

xxx

In the safari camp, the tables had been cleared after dinner, and drinks served to those who wanted them. Roxton, Blacklaws, Holly, and Davenport settled for tea.

Davenport looked at Lord Roxton and asked, "Are we supposed to believe this event hosted by your lady, or is this mainly entertainment? Wives gone wild, eh?" He chuckled. "I know that women like to have a bit of fun, but with the wogs here, is this really wise?"

"Now, see here, Alex," interjected Lord Lindemere, who was, after all, Davenport's client, "That's my sister you're talking about. If she says that this will be a good show, and may do some good, I say let her try."

"Marguerite generally knows what she's about, I've found," replied Roxton, a little cooly.

"But, really, your lordship," persisted Davenport, "Witchcraft? In this age, involving a noble lady of the Realm?"

"Do sit and watch, Alex," said Holly Blacklaws. "I rather fancy that this floor show will be worth a look. I'm skeptical, myself, but it should be amusing, if nothing else." She took her husband's arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. Geoff smiled into her eyes, kissed her, and took her hand.

"May I have everyone's attention, please?" asked Susan Wilson. "The ceremony is about to begin. The Countess of Avebury has asked me to tell you to regard her tonight not as herself, but as her ancestor, Morrighan, High Priestess of Avebury in a more ancient time. She believes that her ancestor was reborn in her and that she has the gift to speak and to conduct ceremonies as Morrighan.

"Please withhold your reaction until you see her as Morrighan. With her will appear her dearest friends and assistants, Veronica Malone and Nicole Challenger. Most of you know Nicole better by her nickname, Finn. Our very own Mem'Sahib Bunduki. Along with her, they have studied the primitive rites of the Zanga Indian tribe in remote Brazil. Veronica grew up among them, and tells me that their Paramount Shaman, Xma'Klee, is a friend and confidant of Marguerite. She has learned some of his secret rites as well as those she knows from her days as a Druid priestess, so many centuries ago. Now, without further ado, I present Morrighan, High Priestess of Avalon and of Avebury."

She stepped aside and opened the flap of Marguerite's tent. To her side, Lady Lindemere and Marguerite emerged.

Marguerite was draped in black satin, as if she had wrapped a robe around herself. Her boots were gone, replaced with dancing sandals of Arabic origin, the sort of thing that might be worn by a favored girl in a harem. On her forehead dangled a slim gold chain, from which hung an emerald that glittered in the firelight. Following her at a stately pace, bearing burning candles in silver sticks, came Finn on one side, Veronica on the other. They were also not dressed as usual, and the sight of them and Marguerite, their measured pace, and solemn expressions silenced the remark that Davenport had been about to make. Something was not right here. If he was any judge of things, this was not a ladies' lark, but something quite real and chilling. He felt a drop of ice water trickle down his spine.

Everyone leaned forward, compelled to look. There was certain magnetism here, and it pulled at the glands, tensing the senses. Roxton had been planning to look smug, but even he was impressed and sat upright and forgot his tea.

Morrighan led her procession around the table, then twice around the campfire, once in each direction. She was singing, an eerie chant that all knew was from an earlier time. The other girls kept pace with a chorus of "om's". After four of the Om sounds, they trilled a keening call that sounded like Arab women saluting a chief in a canyon that reflected the sound and made it a mighty effect. Roxton hadn't known that his friends could do this, or that his wife knew this ancient melody that sang to the inner core of those who heard it. Whenever he decided that he knew Marguerite, she produced a surprise!

The women formed a diamond shape as the four of them surrounded the fire. They set down the candles, and Susan walked among them, taking the black cape from each. She returned to the table, stacking the capes in her own chair. The women were now almost nude by the standards of their day. Black loincloths, brief halter tops, and rings of bells on their right ankles. Gold loop earrings. Necklaces, shining in the firelight. The fire also glinted on the belts of small gold coins that supported their loincloths. They held castenettes in their hands, and began clacking them as they each circled the candles that they had set on the ground. Drums began to beat, in series of four notes. Morrighan had selected African drummers that afternoon and showed them what to do. They were a little afraid and rather contemptuous of this rite, but now were affected by their own music and the overall scene.

The girls circled each candle four times in each direction, and then began to sway in a sensuous dance, accompanied by music from a Victrola phonograph. The sound was not Arabic, really, but was distinctly exotic, and a bit erotic, thought Stuart Hamilton as he observed. Diana took his hand, watching him carefully as they studied the dancers. Even the cynical Roger Alexander Davenport sat forward, clearly intrigued.

Morrighan spun near the fire, and threw a fine powder on the flames as she pirouetted close to the heat. A cloud of smoke rose, sending sparks into the crowd. A mild bang accompanied the flash, and the Africans flinched. But they continued to drum, four beats in succession, the drums in synch. The bells on the girls' ankles tinkled, adding flavor to the sight.

Finn now took her candle and set it on the table to the right of where Morrighan would sit. She pranced back into place, twirling in her dance, arousing the men, making the women jealous, wondering if they could do this, or would have the audacity to try. But they marveled at the performance. They had had no idea that their friends could perform this way. Holly knew that later in the safari, the women were planning to learn Middle Eastern dance from Lady Roxton and her friends. They had discussed this in letters before the safari arrived. This was presumably why they had had the costumes available.

But she was surprised to find the outfits to be so brief. They were much what she had been afraid that she would have had to wear in Amarrah, had the attempt to enslave her the year before been successful. She felt herself moving slightly to the enchanting music, her loins trying to sway as she sat in her chair. Her husband sensed her involvement and caressed her hair and arm. The Blacklaws couple looked at one another, and Geoff took Holly's hand.

Something passed between them, and Holly felt her breathing quicken. She blushed, feeling her heart race. Geoff took her arm and pulled her to him, and he played with her hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. Something about the scene and the way the music affected the senses aroused her, and Holly Blacklaws knew that when she made love later that night, she would be especially passionate. Her lips parted and she felt her cheeks flush, even before Geoff turned her face and kissed her. She clamped her thighs together, hoping that her arousal wasn't as obvious as she feared. Something in the dance was raw and earthy, but it was also surreal in another way. She sensed that arousal wasn't the primary purpose of the ceremony, although it inflamed her lust.

The women again circled the fire four times, then Veronica spun off, placing her silver candlestick on the table to the left of Morrighan's chair. And so it went for Felicity, also. Only Morrighan's chair lacked a burning candle in front.

Morrighan faced the fire, and the others faced outward, their lovely backs to the flames. Finn and Veronica each had a brunette between them, the hair colors alternating. Then, they switched, so that the two blondes were next to each other, arms waving gracefully, heads turned up, as if expecting to see something in the black sky. They trilled again, their tongues fluttering against the roofs of their mouths in a way that few Western women can manage. The sound sent ripples of fear and anticipation down the observers' spines. A lion roared in the near distance, and Hamilton checked that his rifle was at hand.

Morrighan began a new chant as Felicity, Veronica, and Finn circled the fire and her. She waved a hand over the fire, and again, there was a puff of green smoke and a strange scent pervaded the air. It was foreign to their nostrils, but pleasant, rather like some flower that they had never sniffed. Then, the smell turned to a musk, heady, erotic...

Now, the other women pranced wildly for a moment, then spun off, each walking slowly and sensuously to her place at the table. Susan Wilson walked to each and toweled them dry, one by one. The girls seemed oblivious to this, sitting erect, mouths open a little, and breathing hard as Morrighan completed two more turns around the fire. Then she too, came to the table and was toweled.

Susan's brief clothing was white, in stark contrast to the black worn by the others. Holly saw that the loincloth and bra were stitched in a thicker edging, with a lace rose overlay in the center of the loincloth, back and front. There was also a rose overlay stitched on each bra cup. But Susan's belt was not of the small gold coins like the others. It was dark green leather, set with small silver conchos shaped like starbursts.

The other women were chanting "Morrighan, Morrighan, _du suchep, alnorog, ibhalim_." They did this four times, Morrighan joining them the fourth time. Her voice was louder and firmer. It was as if she was confirming a request that they had made.

Felicity reached to her husband for a satin-wrapped object that she had handed him just before going to Marguerite's tent to strip and dress for the performance. It was tied shut with a silver ribbon in a bow, the ends long.

Roxton noticed that the candles now formed a triangle on the table, with Morrighan's candle framed in the center. He saw Felicity rise and circle the fire four times. Then, she danced to Morrighan's side, and laid the wrapped item on the table before her.

As Felicity returned to her seat, Morrighan unwrapped the object, which turned out to be a dagger with an ivory hilt, the guard and pommel of fine silver. The sheath was also silver, carved and inlaid with weird motifs and strange figures. It looked old, although the blade was bright, perhaps freshly polished. It looked sharp and lethal, very well designed for killing as well as for symbolism.

Morrighan stood, the dagger held high above her. She faced North, then East, and the other directions. As she made each facing, she spoke loudly and clearly, "_Alnarak. Minhotep, Ragshala."_ In each case she lowered the dagger before turning and raising it anew with each facing.

She walked now to stand before the fire, the dagger aloft in her right hand, the sheath in her left, wrists crossed. She stood at the south end of the modest campfire, the dagger and sheath above her, and each of her assistants came to kneel before her.

One by one, they knelt before her and kissed the blade and the sheath as Morrighan lowered them to the level of their lips Then, the three women stood and walked gracefully back to the table. Each went to stand before her husband and declared, "I am your woman. I bring you the blessing of Morrighan, who is High Priestess of Avalon and of Avebury."

Finn first, then Felicity, finally Veronica, each knelt before her man, thighs wide, her head bowed. She reached for her husband's hands and placed them possessively on her head. And said, "I ask that you keep me, that the blessing of Morrighan protect us well in all manner of things which may befall us. Of all women, I am yours. Cherish me, for I cherish you. I will serve you well and my heart and my loins are yours. May our love never tarnish, and be always as bright as the blade of Morrighan is tonight. May your children from me carry your name forward into centuries yet to come."

Then, each girl knelt at the right side of her surprised and somewhat embarrassed (if very proud) man, on a towel provided by Susan, who had no man of her own.

Susan now came to the table with a clear human skull that looked to be transparent quartz crystal. It reflected and refracted all manner of light. She handed this object, which seemed heavy for its size, to Morrighan, who had resumed her seat at the table, the dagger and sheath crossed in front of her, candles before her.

Challenger started, and began to rise. But his wife gently tugged him down, kissed his hand and whispered, "It'll be all right, Genius. Watch."

Morrighan gestured to the African drummers, who had been repeating their four-beat all this time, but quietly enough that voices could easily be heard over the drums. They increased the sound of the drums, four beats each, four times.

Then she gestured again. "Let the drums be silent."

The candles were arranged so that one of the four was in each open space around the crossed dagger and sheath. As Susan passed the crystal skull to her, Morrighan rose and passed the base of the skull over each candle. She turned the skull, that it faced each of the four main directions. Everyone noticed the way that the light from the candles shone into the skull, illuminating it, brilliant light seeming to be magnified, glancing off the internal prisms which no modern man could fashion, with the latest and best machinery and laboratory tools. Morrighan made sure that the drummers could see this light show. "Come forward, each of you and behold what few have seen. This is a skull more ancient than even your ancestors; as far back as you can trace the history of your tribe. It is believed to have come to Earth from another race, who once visited here from the stars, and who left this remnant of their technology with an ancient people in the Americas, in a land now known as Mexico. This skull has great powers, and can sometimes tell one such as me what may lie ahead. I shall now consult this oracle. Return to your seats, everyone, and behold what shall pass."

She turned to Susan. "You know well who gave this skull into the keeping of your mistress and her man, who are my close companions. Who gave this skull?"

"Priestess, it was the gift of Xma'Klee, Great Shaman of All the Zanga, his people in a far-off jungle land. It was given that Prof. Challenger might learn its secrets and that it might be used for good."

"Veronica, rise," said Morrighan, looking at Mrs. Malone.

Veronica stood gracefully and confirmed that the story of the skull was as told. She resumed her place beside Ned, and Finn rose and confirmed that she and her husband were the Keepers of the Skull, taken by their group of companions on a remote Plateau, where strange things often occurred. "We wrested it from an evil people called the Tecamaya," she confirmed, "and Great Xma'Klee trusted us to be its keepers, for most are afraid to have it nearby." She knelt again by her husband, giving him an apologetic, yearning look.

(See, "The Crystal Skull of Xochilenque" for the story of this strange, powerful object, and how the explorers came by it, at great peril.)

"Susan, kneel to the other side of Prof. Challenger," said Morrighan.

Susan obeyed, blushing furiously as she looked at the Challengers. She hoped that Marguerite/Morrighan wasn't setting her up to look like George Challenger's second woman. Marguerite had in fact, once teased her about that, for her devotion to Finn. And Susan had sometimes wondered if she would agree if Finn asked her to join her with her man. She was repulsed, but also intrigued, and occasionally debated with herself what she would do if the Challengers ever asked for her in their bed. She had gotten quite excited about it a few times, and both hoped and hoped not that the situation would occur.

But surely, this was not the time nor the place for another of Marguerite's sarcastic jokes about that...

She realized that Finn was smiling at her, a wicked look in her eye. She winked. Oh, no! Mrs. Challenger KNEW what she was thinking. I am SO ashamed, Susan thought.

Morrighan spoke. "George, please take Finn by your right hand and Susan with your left. Go on, Susan. Stop blushing. You are very dear to the Challengers, and you will need a man's love and blessing for what is to come. His and Finn's love energy needs to surround you. Everyone else, will each couple please also join hands?"

She continued, "When all have joined hands, you will be united in a powerful bond, male to female, yin to yang, that will seal you within my influence, and protect you from any evil spirits that may visit us during this ceremony. John, you are my lord protector, and I will need you to stand behind me and hold my shoulders. Don't let go, whatever happens. We two are one another's shields. If I start shaking too much, hold onto my hair, but do not release me until I say that it is safe." Her voice quivered, and Roxton started. This was unlike his wife, to show fear this way. She had been brasher, if terrified, in other, seemingly more desperate situations.

"Here, Your Ladyship, what about me?" queried Alex.

"Good point, Mr. Davenport," said Marguerite. "Have you a picture of your wife in your wallet, by chance?"

"Yes, but she died of blackwater fever two years ago."

"Take her photo and hold it in one hand," instructed Morrighan. "Then sit by Susan, and hold her other hand. She in turn, is connected to both of the Challengers. This may create sufficient positive energy to protect you. I believe it will. And I sense that you are a good man. Demons may shy from you somewhat."

Susan was apprehensive. "Ma'am? What if my holding the professor then detracts from their energy, or mine? Can that do any harm?"

Morrighan smiled and aimed a candle at Susan. "The love energy between the Challengers is exceptionally powerful, and they care deeply for you, Susan. I now cast you and Alex a portion of my strength. As the descendant of a goddess, and a high priestess, I have stronger powers than most. With Lord Roxton holding me, and my spirit joined with his, we have a formidable combination."

She rose, and asked John Roxton to occupy her chair for a moment. Puzzled, he sat. Morrighan removed the slim gold chain with the emerald from her head, laying it on the table. Blushing furiously, aware of how desirable and vulnerable this made her appear, she said, "I am now Morrighan, but I am also Marguerite. And I may not be able to protect Marguerite if I am only Morrighan. So, as Marguerite, I kneel to my husband and my champion, and the love of my life. I present myself to you as the mortal, modern Marguerite Roxton." She spread her knees provocatively, looking up at John with amusement mixed with embarrassment. Then, she sobered, lowering her eyes. She inclined her head deeply and guided John's hands onto her hair. Holding them firmly there, she repeated the same words as the other wives had. Still on her knees, she arched her back erotically and said, "As Marguerite, I'm no better than the other women here. I'm a Countess, but for this aspect of the ceremony, I am only a woman proclaiming herself to proudly belong to her man, and begging his continued love. Not only does this keep the other girls from resenting me, it leaves me on par with them in the protection that my union with you provides to both of us. You'd better fasten my emerald on my head again, now, John, and help me to rise. And I need my chair again."

In the chair, she passed a hand over one candle, and it flared brightly, showering sparks. Everyone flinched and shied back. The Africans showed the whites of their eyes.

"On you, my drummers, and upon you, Joseph, be my blessing. Your wives are not here, but imagine them as you will, or the maidens whom you wish to buy when you can. Think strongly of that union. Under my blessing, you should be safe, but stand well away from me and from the fire."

She looked up at her husband. "John, on reflection, I think you'd better hold my hands instead of my shoulders." She crossed her arms over her breasts, letting him take one in each of his own strong hands. He bent to kiss her neck and said, "Ready."

"Right, then," she replied. "I will now consult the oracle."

She stared into the crystal skull, trying to divine any message that it might provide. She had begun to despair when she saw a clear image deep within the skull. It showed a native man with leopard skin clothing and skulls and other bones on and near him. And she saw him with lions and hyenas. Suddenly, he looked at her with an awful expression. She gasped as she realized that this _mundumugu_ (witch doctor) meant to begin a rebellion that might claim many lives.

She described the image to the others, and said what she believed his intentions were. Then the glance of the skull's invisible eyes shifted to one of the drummers. Marguerite didn't know how the eyes seemed to shift that way, but she had the impression that the skull watched this African. She turned to look at him, feeling a current of electricity charging the atmosphere.

The man, called Nakulu, paled, turned in a flash, and ran from the camp. Lord Lindemere grabbed his rifle and stood, as if to shoot.

"Hold your fire!" ordered Hamilton. "If you shoot, it may be murder! We don't know why he's running. He may just be frightened of the ceremony or of Morrighan's being a _juju_ woman."

But suspicions mounted as the fleeing Nakulu shouted back, "He will slay you! The _mundumugu_ will eat your flesh and drink your blood!" Then, he was gone in the darkness.

"Well, that was special," commented Diana, holstering her revolver. "I'd say that chap is one of this rascal's followers. What else do you see, Marguerite? I mean, Morrighan?"

Morrighan trembled. Roxton felt this and held tightly to her hands.

"I see blood, much of it. And I see this witch doctor cut in half, without a head. I think this will happen, but only after many innocent people have suffered because of him. I see no more. The images have gone. But what I sensed, I sensed strongly. I think we had better pack up and leave tomorrow, and go to the District Commissioner's post. We'd better let him get to the heart of this mess. I sense truly great evil!"

Felicity rose from beside her husband, looking shyly at him as she moved a chair over and sat across from the seer. "Marguerite," she asked. "You were going to contact my aunt..."

"Yes, Wait," spoke Morrighan. She gazed again into the skull. Nothing. Then, she closed her eyes and felt images and words come to her.

"Your aunt was named Helen, and she died when a large chunk of masonry fell off of a building under construction. Another passerby was also killed, and one man lost a leg. This was in York, four years ago. Helen is well and sends you greetings. She says that she feels no pain, and that she will await you when your time comes, that your entry to the spirit world may go smoothly. She wishes that she could see your children, and she misses you. That is all I can sense."

Morrighan shuddered violently, then opened her eyes and said. "That's all, Felicity. I had trouble getting a signal, but what I sensed was definite. Did it help?"

Cynical faces, some smirking, turned to Lady Lindemere. That lady had blanched, and her expression was baffled. "Has Charles told you this? We never discussed my aunt, Marguerite! But that's how she died, and when, and where."

Charles looked confused. "No, Darling, I've never said anything to Marguerite about your Aunt Helen. Marguerite, how did you do that?"

Morrighan shivered. "I truly have no idea. But I sometimes sense things. I wish I knew why. I half believe this bit about me being the reincarnation of a Druidic priestess. Everyone, the ceremony is over. I feel unsettled. John, please take me to our tent."

A scream pierced the night, followed by the growl of a lion. The noises originated about 600 yards from camp.

"That was Nakulu," said Joseph. "A lion has taken him, perhaps one of the _mundumugu's_ animals. Tonight, we must make the fires brighter and post more guards. I will talk to the boys, Bwana Blacklaws. I will try to make them stay. But this is very bad business."

CHAPTER SEVEN

The whites drifted off to their tents, the hunters first assigning men to watch throughout the night. Several new fires were started as well. And they felt better for this, for lions continued to roar occasionally.

The Lindemeres discussed what had happened, and were troubled. "Charles, this woman is your sister. How can she do these things? Is there ANY way in which she could know about Aunt Helen?" Felicity was worried, and showed it.

Charles shrugged. "I have no answer, nor has poor Marguerite. I think she regards this gift as being almost a curse. The good news is that if what she says is so, at least she is on our side. I say, Darling, where did you get that rather scrumptious outfit? I can't say that I'm happy to have had my wife showing so much skin in public, but it is pretty erotic. And that little ceremony where you knelt and asked for my love has stirred my lust more than I want to admit. You're already a very desirable woman, but after that...I hope you aren't tired. If you're going to rev my engine that way, I need to take you for a drive. So to speak...It isn't fair to tease the animals, you know." He smiled at her the way that he did when she walked nude or nearly so past him at home. Felicity Tremayne, Lady Lindemere, had one of the best female bodies in all Britain, and she delighted in the effect that it had on men, especially her husband. Felicity wasn't arrogant about it, but she was vain, and was deeply satisfied with her looks and how they were received.

She sauntered over to him. "Why, Charles! Do we dare dally that way, with all that Marguerite has prophesied? Will I be able to maintain your interest with those lions out there?" She slipped off the black bra, tossing it onto a camp trunk. And moved in a subtle dance that made the most of her considerable assets. Her sister-in-law had trained her well. Felicity could move so as to endanger a man with a heart condition. She knew it, and took considerable pride in it. She and her close friend Finn Challenger sometimes laughed about their skills, practicing moves that each assured the other would get their men's' interest, no matter what George Challenger might have going on in his lab. Charles had once missed a session of the House of Lords when Felicity had proved that she could be more interesting. She had done it on a dare from Marguerite, and the ladies had laughed about her success. (Lord Roxton had also missed that session.)

Charles reached over and stripped his wife, examining the brief loincloth. "You could have at least made this thing a couple of inches wider and that much longer. I swear, this is as minimal as what some native women wear. And where did you girls get all of these gold coins sewn to the little belt?"

"We went by the bank several months ago, while we planned this safari," she responded. "We designed these outfits and practiced whenever we were together, while you lads went out shooting or riding. We plan to teach Holly, Diana, and Amanda how to dance. Amanda wrote that she thinks that John will love it. He's become less stuffy since we were here last year, and admits that he quite likes those little knickers that we gave her. I've sent her several shipments of them since. Do you like my slutty dance, Darling?" And she moved her legs and loins subtly in a way that had him breathing heavily.

"Put out the light. It's silhouetting you. Then, come to bed, and I'll show you how much I like your slutty little dance. Is this the way that Marguerite had to dance for that awful sultan who used to own her? No wonder his son was so eager to get her back last year!"

Felicity turned out the lantern and slipped into bed beside her husband. "Marguerite showed me all manner of things that she had to do, and Finny has, too. She seems a very accomplished lover. I've been planning to demonstrate these things on our anniversary next week, but would you like a sample tonight?"

He certainly would, and the Lindemeres were soon involved in activities more like a chapter from the Kama Sutra than something that an English lord and his lady were thought likely to embrace. At one point, Charles commented on how wanton and wonderful Felicity was, and she reminded him that even the very conservative Queen Victoria had said that a woman should be a lady in other ways, but a whore in the bedroom.

Charles chuckled. "Good advice, Felicity. But I think you've surpassed even the skills of most professional ladies. I hasten to add that I'm guessing. With you at home, I have never been even tempted to patronize them. Darling, you must surely be the most desirable woman of all time. If I was a Turkish potentate, with a thousand women, the only one for whom I'd send would be you."

"Liar," she laughed. "But I'd strive to be your favorite. Oh, Charles, I love you so much! When I knelt before you tonight, I was thrilled to my core. That was so sensually charging! You have been my champion and my object of male adoration since we were teens. Now, show me what you'd do to those thousand women to keep each of them clamoring to be the one for whom you'd send that night!"

And thus, the Lindemeres were quite tired before they slept. And it was well that they had eased their tension, for trying times lay ahead..

xxx

Similar scenes occurred in the Malone and the Challenger tents. The usually more conservative Veronica admitted that kneeling before Ned and asking him to acknowledge his love for her and his wish to possess her, had excited her far more than she'd expected it to.

"I thought this was silly when Marguerite told us to do that," she admitted. "In rehearsal, she told us that she was following a real ancient rite designed to arouse men and make them want to claim their women. Being erotically charged like that kept bad spirits at bay, because of that male-female element that she mentioned. I scoffed a little, but Neddy, I have to say, being down there and holding your hands on me to prove that I wanted you as my man, got to me. Do you feel like working off some of that energy? It's not really late yet, and who knows what chance we'll have to make love for the next few days? This witch doctor man gives me the creeps, as Finny says." She stood pressed against him, moving his hands onto her bottom. That was one of her especially erogenous zones, and Ned's hands knew just what to do there. Already, she felt rising passion, and knew that she must look flushed.

"If I understand you, honey, you want to fool around. Is that pretty much what you said?" He trailed fingers down her back, and she broke out in goose pimples.

"Um, hmmm," she confirmed, rubbing noses before she kissed him like Aphrodite might. Veronica had become a skilled goddess of love, herself.

"Gee," teased Ned. "I'm tired and I have a headache. But for you..." and he kissed her back with even more zeal than she had expected.

Soon, they were in bed, telling one another with their lips, their eyes and their bodies just how much they wanted one another.

Before they slept, Ned cuddled with Veronica and whispered into the ear that he was nibbling, "We need to do this witchcraft ceremony thing more often, if it works this well."

xxx

The Challengers paused to discuss the likely outcome of what Marguerite had seen, and how dangerous the_ mundumugu's_ followers might be, and how many they were. But even as they spoke, they caressed one another, and neither had any doubt that they were about to prove once again that theirs was the love of the centuries, the affair for all time. Finn was fond of saying so, to the amusement and occasional irritation of her friends. But she basically really believed it, and wasn't surprised that she had felt a charge like electricity when she had lowered herself before her man and later knelt by his side, holding his hand. She wondered whether Susan had felt much lust as she took George's other hand. If so, Finn would forgive her, given the circumstances. And the Genius had such a strong male aura that he could provide safety for both women.

Still, she reflected, we need to do this Druid ceremony stuff more often. I got such a CHARGE out of it!

xxx

Marguerite was less thrilled by the event. She lay with John, holding one another tenderly. But what she felt was more love and concern than lust.

"Oh, John, I love you so very much. I feel so foolish for having waited as long as I did to accept your love, even when I sensed that it was sincere. I was just so unable to trust, you or anyone else. There are still almost no people whom I trust much, and most of them are in this safari camp tonight. The dearest, of course, is in this very bed."

Roxton feigned surprise, looking around. "Where? I thought we were alone!"

Marguerite chuckled, kissing him, looking into his wonderful eyes that so captivated her. They were the first thing she looked for when they woke each day, and the last that she looked into before she slept. Even when she knelt before him to give oral pleasure, she sought approval and validation of her technique by looking up into those eyes as she performed this particularly intimate sexual service.

What she always saw there gave her purpose and stability. Even her children drew no more affectionate looks from her than did John, and those eyes were the window to his soul. It was a rather good soul, she had come to realize. And her own soul clung to it, desperate to have found someone to whom she wished so much to belong. She had felt enormously self conscious when she had behaved as she had instructed the other wives in what to do, but it had also been enormously liberating and fulfilling to place his hands on her head and ask to be seen as his.

The Sultan of Amarrah had owned her body, and from it compelled many delightful services, but only John Roxton had made her heart sing, and caused her to want to be known as his woman! Finny was more blatant about admitting that she was totally George Challenger's wench, but Marguerite was certain that that no other woman really was more in love with her husband than she herself was.

And she was especially reassured that this was so now, for she was strained after being the voice and persona of Morrighan on this dark night. She sensed that the witch doctor was a genuinely malevolent force, and that his aspirations would menace her and hers.

"Can you believe that this Karanja chap is actually telling his followers that white men's' bullets will bounce off of them? If that happens, I intend to have a cross word with Mssrs. Holland & Holland and John Rigby." He smiled, trying to ease the concern that he saw on Marguerite's face.

She decided to play along. "Shouldn't you have that cross word with Eley/Kynoch? They make the ammunition; not the gun makers. But Eley will claim that it wasn't their fault, especially if the Malones and Finnykins have the same problem with their American and German cartridges. Do you like this?" Her right hand played with him where she knew that he would approve in an obvious manner.

"Seems to work," he conceded. "My interest appears to be rising."

"John, stop!" she cried in mock terror. "Don't go through the tent roof with that!"

He laughed and pulled her under him. "I'll quit growing when I'm sure that it'll fill you completely and make you moan and beg me never to finish. How's that?"

"Wonderful. Do me thoroughly, at length. But I want to just do it missionary style, if that's all right, then sleep. That ceremony and what I saw have drained me. I need you to refill my sensual reservoir, and then let me rest. That bloody boy with the tea will be here in a few hours."

"After what I'm about to do to you, I'll need tea by then," he countered. "Open those incredible legs, Marguerite, and let me show you a terrific way to pass a chilly African evening."

"Probably the same way that you pass evenings wherever else we are," she jibed. "Men are so predictable."

But he evidently managed to please her, however likely his choice of entertainment, for she sighed with relief and great pleasure by the time that she cast a final gaze into his eyes, and bade him to sleep well. She certainly slept better for his attentions, and even better because she could curl up next to him, knowing that he was there for her, emotionally and physically. He had become her lord protector in all ways, and she whispered this to him as she drifted off in slumber.

"See that you remember that, Countess," he replied sleepily. "I love you, and I mean to always be the one whom you trust most. Now and for all time."

He kissed her and she pulled his arm over her, his hand on her right breast as she drifted off. A final shift of her shapely buttocks to bring them into tight contact with his loins and legs, and she was off, to dream only somewhat fitfully. And when she woke, troubled, she held that arm until she was again at peace.

xxx

Holly and Geoff were discussing the Morrighan issue. "Bloody silly, if you ask me," he declared. "European women stripping off like kaffirs, right in front of some of the blacks, at that! No shame at all, or damned little. If we didn't need the money from the clients and they weren't also our friends, I'd have been tempted to say something. Look here, Darling, would you have done that, if Marguerite or Morrighan or whoever she was tonight had asked you to join them in that little adventure?"

Holly stood before him; one leg bent a little as she reached with both hands for her bra clasp. "Honestly, I'd probably have explained in advance what we were going to do, and asked your permission. You're my husband, and what I do reflects on you. I crave your approval. But I thought about this, a lot. Marguerite and Felicity approached Diana and me with the idea of joining them, but explained that they hadn't enough outfits for us. They wanted us to know that we weren't being slighted by not being asked to participate. Ideally, all of the females present should have been involved, for the full effect. But we don't dance that way, although they plan to teach us on this trip. I quite look forward to it. I want to show you that I can be as erotic and desirable as they are. I saw you watching; don't pretend that you weren't. All of you blokes were pretty intent on those girls! " Her lips compressed in a prim expression.

"As for kneeling and putting your hands on my head in that possessive way, I'm still excited about it. Geoff, you have always been larger than life to to me. When I was a schoolgirl and saw you return from safaris with the trophies and saw you in the papers, and realized what glamorous and famous people your clients are, I was pretty smitten. And when you rescued me last year from the slavers, and I saw how you looked at me, I thought that maybe if I threw myself at you, I might catch you before you moved on to some other woman. And I know that there have been quite a few. You have certainly lived up to a white hunter's reputation for appealing to the ladies!"

"I'm awfully glad to have appealed to YOU," he admitted. "I was just surprised to find that I had a chance with you. You're the rich girl, the banker's daughter. And I was just sure that you were going to marry that auto dealer's son. Society wedding and all that." He flushed a little, remembering his feelings at the time.

She colored. "That bloody auto dealer's son told me that I was unworthy of him after I had spent some time in chains in the slavers' custody. I know that he was far from the only man who wouldn't want to be seen romantically with a girl who was presumed to have submitted to Arabs and wogs. My reputation was deeply sullied as soon as the papers and the radio announced my captivity. People assumed the worst. And appearances did bear out their presumptions.

"But you looked on me like a goddess instead of as a slave when you saw me naked, chained in that damned store. And you came respectfully to me, asking my hand in marriage when other men only wanted to know the sordid details of what I was forced to do. I might never have been able to date a man who wasn't mainly after me with the expectation that I was all but a whore. You gave me back my self respect, Geoff, and you have made me a happy woman. I see how you pull me to you or take my hand when I get glances that imply that I'm soiled goods, as many from women as from men. Maybe more from women..."

He looked thoughtfully at her. "Holly, I am beginning to think that I must make you a pedestal like that which old Challenger made for Finn. I hear he puts her on it to show how proud he is of her. The women were talking about it last week. She gets teased for it, but I think she loves it. You deserve no less."

She blushed all over. "Oh, Geoff, you are too good to me. I know that I'm vain, and a little spoiled. Daddy raised me that way, bless his heart. But I am so glad to have found another man who indulges me. Speaking of men, you are a MAN, in every sense of the word. The car dealer's heir was a pampered boy. I sometimes wonder what I saw in him, other than that he came from a wealthy family and I knew that I could have him. But until I met you, I didn't know what it was to truly want a man, with my whole being. It scares me sometimes, how much I'm thrilled to be yours. Look, take my knickers off. I want you to do that tonight."

He complied, looking appreciatively at the rose pink bikini panties, a gift from Finn and Marguerite. He noted the delicate lace trim at the leg openings and the floral appliqué. And wished that items like this were more easily obtainable. He knew that the ladies had them made to their own designs, and was glad that Holly had been favored with their concern and their gifts, especially ones like these.

"So, you don't mind too much that I'm not rich?" he asked. "I do pretty well, but I can't spoil you like you deserve, not to the full extent."

"Geoff, you spoil me every time you look at me and I see the love in your eyes," she gushed. "And you are such a daring, dashing man! I'm thrilled to meet your clients and to sometimes go on safari with you. We have more than enough. It's best that I'm not too spoiled, anymore. Marguerite and the others send me too many fine things, as it is. Not that I'm not delighted to get them. And to wear some of them for you. The look on your face makes it all very worthwhile. When you like something, I can tell!" She blushed crimson.

"I am rather fond of you," he smiled, toying with her bottom after tossing the panties on a bedside table, next to his revolver.

She ran her hands through his hair and around his shoulders. His shirt was off, and she loved to see and feel this man of hers.

"Do you really want to know how I feel about what we did at that little pagan fest tonight?" she asked. "What I feel after behaving the way that we wives did?"

"Yes, actually, I've wondered," he admitted. "As much as I felt it was foolishness, it was rather nice when you girls did that, putting my hands on you, I mean. I felt ten feet tall."

Holly blushed, tossed her brown hair, and looked at the tent top. "Ten feet might be a little much for this place that we share tonight. But that music, the dancers, and what I did before you in public...I feel so aroused, Geoff. And so very yours. Let me show you again how I feel about you, Darling Geoff."

She knelt before him, legs wide, back arched to present her breasts to full advantage. She looked shyly down, thinking how she must look to him. She tossed her hair again, and put her hands on her thighs.

"My word, he muttered, "I was right: you ARE a goddess!"

"Not a goddess, Geoff. A slave girl. I could be nothing else in your arms. No woman could be more. You have that effect on women, especially on me, since I was 15, and saw you pass on the street, or in the bank. What the Sultan of Amarrah failed to achieve from me, you have commanded, by chaining my heart. I want to be locked up in your arms forever. And a day!" She lowered her head. "Put your hands on me again, Darling. Tell me that I belong to you, and that you want me. Then, pull me into bed with you and make me do whatever you want. I'll feel the luckiest woman in the world for it. And in the morning, I am going to butter your toast like Finn does for George, and I want everyone to see it. If you're thinking of putting me on a pedestal and telling me how much you care for me, I intend to earn it!"

He held her head, telling her that he did care, and that the pedestal wasn't far off, once they got home. "And now that we've said all of this, and you're down there, anyway..."

She looked timidly but lustfully into his eyes. "I think I follow your naughty mind. Get those trousers off, and I'll show you just how much yours I am. That ceremony made me wet for you, and we shouldn't waste that."

Blacklaws tossed his trousers and underwear on the table. "Who said anything about wasting your situation? I intend to exploit it fully."

He turned off the lamp, and pulled her head toward him.

Later, they lay in one another's arms discussing the witch doctor. "Do you think that Marguerite made that up abut seeing the villain in two pieces?" she wondered. "She seemed very real in her actions and expressions."

"Yes," he agreed. "It bothered me. I half believe that she does have some odd powers. No worries, though, about seeing the varlet in two pieces. If he comes after us, I'll blow him in half with my .500 Nitro Express! It'll be using too much gun for the job, but if I blow him in two, it'll seem to have fulfilled her prophecy. Can't hurt to have the boys believe that we have a tame witch in our midst!" He laughed, joined by his wife.

They prepared to sleep, and he whispered to her that although she had all the talents of a trained, loving slave girl, she remained a goddess.

"Your slave goddess, then," she replied, kissing him. "You so OWN me, Geoff. What you do to me leaves me breathless. I think you do it to leave me speechless, to get a woman who isn't running her mouth all the time."

"Like this?" he asked, and pulled her over and covered her mouth with his.

When they finally parted, she gasped, "Oh, yes, Geoff! JUST like that!"

In time they slept, and when he woke two hours later, he pulled the cover over her, where it had come off of her shoulder. He kissed her cheek, and murmured, "Good night, Goddess. I swear that I'm going to build you that pedestal." He was smiling when sleep claimed him, his arm around Holly, a hand draped on her elegant posterior.

xxx

The Challengers parted, panting. "Oh, Genius! I was so hot! Marguerite's little affair really started my motor! How did it run for you? You drove me really well." She blushed, an ability that she had retained through seven years in his bed, several of them married to him.

He smiled and wrapped an arm around her, playing with her breasts with his other hand. The nipples still stood erect, and a flush suffused Finn as she panted, gazing lovingly into his eyes.

"If you insist on comparing yourself to an automobile, you ran like a Bugatti collecting first prize at the Grand Prix."

"If you don't want to think of me as a car, what should I be compared to?" she asked. They had left a lantern on, and the light reflected off her blue eyes in a way that made her seem to smolder, the pinkness of her cheeks enhancing the effect.

"No point in comparing you, Finn. Nothing else compares to you. Maybe Venus, if you believe in mythology. But I've never heard that she buttered her lovers' toast in the morning, however well she may have performed in bed. And she cannot possibly have surpassed you there, either. One day, I must analyze just how you wiggle your bottom while I'm plugged in for what you call, 'doggie style.' The way you rock back and forth must be a study in human muscle control that would merit a scientific paper." He leaned over and kissed her between the eyes.

"Figure out why that turns me on so much while you're at it," she answered. "Some scientist named Graffenburg said that there's a sensitive place on the front wall of the vagina that gets hit by you when you do me on my knees. I think he was right. It was called the G Spot. I heard this from some girls who used to read some magazine called, 'Cosmopolitan.' It had all sorts of hot articles in it, but we only found some that survived the world that Zoth left us. Damn, I'm sorry, Genius. I didn't mean to think of him. Not now."

"Then, don't," said Challenger. "Just be glad that if you could be compared to a car, it's one that wins races, and men's hearts, if I'm any example of your appeal."

Finn grinned, an impish look on her face. "Lots of cars win men's hearts. I sometimes think guys had rather get off over getting a new car than over screwing their bitches. And the right car will get them chicks." She looked teasingly at her man, who laughed and pulled her hair.

"Go to sleep, Finn. We have much to do tomorrow. But thank you for giving this old man a fine time tonight. You have given me a new lease on life, my dear."

Finn looked thoughtful. "I don't think I gave you a new lease on life, George. I just helped you to enjoy it more, and to see outside the lab. And whatever I mean to you, you mean even more to me. Your whole life is a benefit to all mankind. All I do is fuck you, cut your hair, raise your kids, and tell you how grateful I am to be Mrs. You."

"And that means the world to me, Darling," he protested. "Knowing you has opened entire new vistas to me, and made me whole. You also inspire me when I feel discouraged over some failed experiment, and remind me that the next may bear fruit. You believe in me. And you made me a father, something that I never thought would mean so much to me as it has. Um, I say: did we put the skull away for the night? I don't want some wog breaking in here to steal it."

They sat up and looked for the crystal skull. It sat on a chest a few feet away, the colors and the lamplight coursing within it. As they looked, the eyes flickered and glowed.

Finn shivered. "I bet that thing was watching us. Well, it got a good show. You really had me going for awhile. I was totally Mrs. Slut. And proud of it! I'll get its box."

She slipped out of bed and brought the heavy plywood box and set the enchanted skull in it. It turned a rose pink as she lifted it, startling the Challengers. Finn set it behind a chest and so that the skull faced the back of their tent. Then she set several boxes of .450/.400 ammunition on the locked lid.

Challenger laughed. "Think it'll stay put?" he drawled.

Finn wasn't amused. "That thing scares me, Lover." She poured water from a canteen onto a handkerchief, washing her hands.

Back in bed, she turned out the lantern and snuggled against her man.

"Hold me, George. I think we're about to get into some serious trouble tomorrow from that witch doctor creep. Promise me that you'll be careful."

"I will," he conceded, "but I want your promise not to go off shooting man-eaters without me. That scared me more than it did you, if possible. I was very frightened for you, young lady."

"Yes, sir, I promise," said Finn, only half sarcastic. Sometimes, she felt more like George's daughter than his wife. Either way, she knew that he cared for her, and would risk his very life for her. Her heart beat faster, and she reached for him. "Lover, hold me until I sleep. Hey: do you know what'll set me off faster than you probing that G Spot; give me an even bigger orgasm?"

"What?" he asked, genuinely curious, for she did react with great enthusiasm to the mentioned stimulation. Only being tied up and "made" to submit to his desires when she asked for that seemed to excite her more.

"Being quiet just before I sleep and remembering that I'm Mrs. You. That's the quickest source of the Big O that I can imagine. And I'm the only girl on the planet who gets to relish that." She slid a leg under one of his and had him hug her to himself. Before they slept, she put his hand on her bottom, and told him to play with her there gently until she dreamed. "Until I was 22, I had almost nothing, George. Now, I have it all. Somewhere, whoever counts karma points, if you believe in that, is marking up a big score for you. You are going to get a really nice place in Heaven. Better than our home in Kent." She snickered and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I'm already in Heaven," he protested, "and I have been, since you told me that you were mine." And on that note, the Challengers slept.

In its sturdy box, the crystal skull pulsed. Its eye sockets glowed green, then purple Then, it, too, was quiet.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dawn seemed to come prematurely and with malice. Marguerite swore that her watch was fast. Then, she just swore. "Bloody hell! It can't already be six o'clock! Roxton, DO something!" And she refused tea, pulling a pillow over her head.

"Mem'Sahib Marguerite is not well?" asked the personal boy, whose name was Chege.

"Mem'Sahib Marguerite is just tired. The tea, chai, that you brought will help her to be well in time for breakfast. _Asante sana_ (many thanks)," replied Lord Roxton.

"Eeehh," said Chege, and withdrew.

"At least, that savage was solicitous of my health," mumbled the Countess. "Did he bring anything at all with that tea? I'm sleepy, but I'm famished. It's your fault, John. You had me up far too late. slaking your vile masculine lusts."

Roxton knew that she was joking. He pointed out that some female lusts had also been considerably slaked. And judging from her reactions at the time, they had been slaked very well, indeed. "And Chege brought some wonderful-smelling croissants and fresh butter. And jam, blackberry, I think."

"Dwelling on petty details again about the lust thing, I see," she complained. "Oh, well, if I must rise, at least pour my tea and butter me one of those rolls. That damned cook knows perfectly well that I can't smell those and sleep."

A laughing Roxton tousled her hair and poured their tea.

The Challengers got up, and George took in the daily tea tray. He had on his colorful robe that Finn had bought him just before the safari, and it was welcome in the cool freshness of a new day. He set about buttering croissants and pouring tea while his bride of four years shook her head and wrapped a blanket around herself as she sat up in bed.

They shared the morning repast, discussing their children, the evil _mundumugu_, how soon they would reach the DC's post and see Sir John and Lady Amanda Musgrave, and other details of their day.

"You can tell that Blacklaws runs a first class safari operation," declared Challenger. "He serves blackberry preserves." He was notoriously fond of blackberries: in jam, in pies, or on their own.

Finn agreed, rolling her eyes at her husband's standard of measuring the excellence of a hunting company on the basis of its condiments.

After they had finished, Challenger set the tea tray outside to be collected by their personal boy. He returned to the edge of the camp bed, pulling on shorts and socks. Finn opened a low chest and fumbled out clothes for the day, for each of them. Both would be in light blue shirts and khaki trousers.

"I want to wear shorts, but I don't know what we'll get into today, especially if that witch doctor's men attack. And the sun is pretty hot out here. Are we going to hunt anything, or just run for Sir John's and Amanda's place like dogs with our tails tucked between our legs?" Finn didn't like running from a foe.

She swiveled around, lying between his legs, her arms across his thighs, her head in his lap. It was one of her favorite positions, and she often sat thus while he explained his experiments, their next shopping trip to London, or any number of things. It comforted her to do this now, when the day's business might be so serious. And George could play with her hair and ears. Finn liked that...

Challenger did play with her hair and her ears as she purred. "I daresay that we had better shag ourselves over to the DC's while Morrighan's little magic show of last night has the boys cowed. The longer the day wears on, the more likely it is that some of them will remember Karanja's threats and his own witchcraft. And the sooner we reach Sir John and he dispatches the KAR (King's African Rifles) and the police, the sooner the remaining man-eaters can be shot and the loyal natives made at ease. You and the other ladies can chat with his wife about fashions, and you can teach her those erotic dance moves that you're so proud of. I rather suspect that Sir John will pretend to know nothing of that until we leave, then he will eagerly watch her show what she has learned. The poor man is concerned about their image, you see. Customs being what they are in this day, public officials can't be seen to endorse their wives dancing like harem girls! Doesn't mean that he won't like it, seen in private. If it has the same effect on him that your dancing does on me, I had better leave Amanda some of my birth control pills, or the Musgraves will likely have a child before long!" He chuckled.

"I wrote to her and she said that they're trying to have a kid," Finn pointed out. "They better not wait too long. She's already over 30. I'm glad that I had ours young. It also makes me feel so cool. So fulfilled. I never thought that I'd have kids, let alone those of a genius."

Someone rapped at the canvas door of the tent. "Are you two about ready for breakfast?" Veronica's voice…

"Hell, no," answered Finn. "I'm sitting here buck naked, with my head in George's lap, talking. Give us a few minutes. What's up? Anything urgent?"

"Sort of," said her friend from the Plateau. "Geoff and Stuart want to hold a council of war during breakfast. There's a column of smoke in the distance, and Joseph thinks that someone has attacked a village that he says is over there. Probably the witch doctor's thugs. Put on some clothes and get out here. Even Marguerite will be there in a few minutes."

Breakfast was as delightful a meal as ever: venison chops, scrambled eggs, toast, Challenger's revered blackberry jam. Coffee; tea for those who'd prefer it. But there was an air of urgency, and everyone knew that an emergency could occur at any time. Almost everyone wore their pistols.

Joseph approached Blacklaws. "Bwana, two more boys deserted during the night. One from our safari[ one from Bwana Davenport's. But I think that all who remained are not among the wizard's followers. Still, they fear his magic. We must leave soon, be away from this place where his power is strong."

"Right, Joseph, get cracking. Have the safari made ready to leave soon after we finish breakfast. We'd best be off. And we'd better check out that smoke." Blacklaws glanced at the column that still rose, although it was now not so tall, as the fire burned itself out.

"Mightn't that be rather dangerous?" asked Marguerite. I don't fancy that that's from an outdoor cookout. Geoff, what's that Afrikaans word for those where you come from?"

_"Braaivleis_," he responded. "But English-speaking South Africans use the term, too, just as we adopted other Dutch words, like '_kopje_' for a hill, '_krans'_ for a cliff, '_kloof'_ for a valley, and so on. But you're right; that's not smoke from what Mr. Malone calls a barbecue."

"Do you know where the word 'barbecue' comes from?" Ned inquired.

Marguerite rolled her eyes. "No, but I have the strangest feeling that you're going to tell us."

Finn and Holly laughed. Even most of the others smiled. Marguerite's sarcasm had become routine to them, and most found her funny.

"Well," said Ned, "I hate to prove Marguerite right about anything, but here's the story, in case anyone is interested. During the days when pirates were common along the Spanish Main, in the Caribbean Sea, they lived on islands there and cooked their meat on open wood fires. The Spaniards called the technique and the sauces used, _'barbacoa'._ That got corrupted to 'barbecue' in English, and it's now a common means of backyard cooking in the States, especially in the South. We use metal grills and charcoal for fuel. Except that in Texas, they use mesquite wood a lot. And, yeah, it's about like that _braaivleis_ in South Africa, from what I've read. But they may cook more sausages than Americans do."

"Marvelous!" applauded Marguerite. "Your Mark Twain once said that a speech should be long enough to cover the subject and short enough to be interesting. I think your fascinating account of a boring issue just qualified."

"Sounds like a good design for a lady's dress," Roxton smirked. "'Long enough to cover the subject, but short enough to be interesting'."

Diana laughed. "Oh, Lord Roxton! How awfully funny!"

"Hey," said Finn, "I thought it was interesting. Thanks, Ned."

Hamilton cleared his throat. "Well, back to the more urgent subject: we had better investigate that burning village. We can pull up close enough to look it over in binoculars, and leave if we're attacked. We have motor transport; they don't. That gives us some leeway. And if they've left, someone may have survived and need help. May even have heard them say where they're headed next."

Everyone agreed, Blacklaws noting that if they got isolated and had to make a stand, they could put the vehicles in a circle. "Like the Boer trek wagons, when they were attacked by the Zulu. But our cars are much faster than their oxen. We can probably get away, unless we have to cross rough country, in which case, we may be for it, if they catch us."

They all knew how slowly the cars had to move at times, if they weren't to break an axle.

As soon as breakfast was cleaned up after and they had hastily packed, they were off. Hamilton told everyone that the lighter hunting cars would take the lead and the tail of the column, with one guarding the flanks. That way, the heavier trucks would be better protected. But he also wanted the blacks on the trucks where they could be watched, in case any were on the _mundumugu's_ side.

They drove some 12 miles over rolling country before they found the village. It was nestled in a valley, with land cleared for agriculture for some acres around. Still, it wasn't far from the village before the long grass approached, with the open bush of the savannah.

They pulled up on a rise overlooking the scene and Challenger got out his 10X50 binocular and glassed the remains of what had once been a prosperous village, by native standards. Finn stood by him, their arms braced on tree limbs for steadiness, the white hunters doing the same on other trees.

"They were attacked, all right," observed Blacklaws, Holly trembling by his side. "Pretty much burned out. The kraals are open, the cattle and goats gone. Dead people and dogs everywhere. Even the children weren't spared. Bloody awful. As bad as or worse than the Nandi rising in 1906, or the Matabele War in Rhodesia in 1896. Anyone see any sign of life?"

"I think I see something moving a little in that hollow under the big dead tree about four o'clock out from the fires, maybe 550 yards from the village." Finn strained to get a better look at the movement that had caught her keen eye.

Her husband's more powerful binocular found what she meant. "By Jove, I think that's a native woman and a _toto_, or whatever they call their children."

They sent out a scout car, which signaled back that they had found what they expected. They also signaled for the others to come on, that the attackers had left. Blacklaws operated a steel mirror heliograph, Roxton reading his signals.

Holly was in the lead car with her husband. Blacklaws had forbidden her coming, but she had firmly refused to let him go without her. Usually, she worshipped him and would seldom dare to defy him. But this was an occasion when he had to admire her pluck,and her devotion. Actually, he was proud to have her along, although worried sick that something might happen to her.

She gathered up the young child, about three, and they gave water to it and to the girl, who was not the boy's mother. She told the Blacklaws couple that she had fled when the raiders struck, gathering up a neighbor's child as she fled. As far as she knew, no one else from the village was left alive. Some young women had been captured, along with the livestock. Everyone else was dead, slain in a vicious rampage. She had cowered in a drainage ditch, playing dead, silencing the whimpering child. She had either been missed or assumed to be dead, for the warriors had bypassed her. She had later crept under some foliage, and listened. The raiders had spoken of the witch doctor as their ruler, bragging about how they would soon have many women, goats, and cattle, and kill all who opposed them.

They had mentioned herding the captives to a hiding place, where other women and livestock would be assembled from two other villages. They would be kept there in pens until after the warriors not left to guard them attacked the police post and DC's station that afternoon. She could not count as Western peoples did, but said that at least several hundred followers of Karanja must be in his force. About 100 had attacked this village, the largest of the three targeted for that morning. She shivered, crying. "My family is all gone," she wailed. "What shall I do? I do not want to go to Nairobi and sell myself to whichever men will buy my use. And what will become of little N'Jula here? He has also lost all of his family."

"We'll see about that," declared Marguerite. "We will arrange for a mission post to adopt you and the lad, or I'll have the Mem'Sahib DC arrange something suitable. She can probably hire you as a housemaid. I'll give her money for that, if need be."

"Mem'Sahib," spoke Chege, "I have but one wife. I want another. I find this girl to be pretty, and she will come with no bride price. I have seen her in this village before, and we have talked. If she will go with me, I will also take the child, if the Bwana DC gives permission."

The girl looked at Chege. "I know Chege. If he will have me, I will follow him. Please speak to the Bwana DC for us, Mem'Sahib. Are you the_ juju_ Mem'Sahib of whom we have heard, the lion killer?" She shook, and set the boy down. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

"I am the _juju_ Mem'Sahib, the one who consorts with magic and kills lions that eat people. My husband is a great English lord. He has much influence with the governor, certainly with the DC. We will speak on your behalf, and Chege's. I am a friend of the DC's wife. I feel sure that we can arrange for you to belong to Chege. Are you sure that this is what you wish? We may be able to find other places for you to stay."

The girl looked long at Chege, who looked back. She cast her eyes down, smiling shyly. "Mem'Sahib, I wish to belong to this man, if he will take me."

"Very well," said Marguerite, "If she has relatives who have survived in another village and they claim her, I will pay her bride price. In money or in goats, whichever they prefer."

That settled, they checked the village, but it was as the girl said: no one was left alive, and vultures and jackals were already busy among the dead. Hyenas giggled with glee among the huts. They took Wanjiru, for that was the girl's name, to her hut for anything that she could salvage, but all was burned or broken. She burst into tears as she found the remains of her parents and sisters.

Diana Hamilton found an old blanket for Wanjiru, who wore only a brief beaded loincloth and sandals, apart from earplugs and some copper and bead necklaces. No more could be done, for they had to leave to reach the District Commissioner before the post was attacked. Wanjiru had no idea how soon the attackers would come, just that they meant to stash their loot before going. She had heard the raiders say that others of their number were on the way to attack the combined safaris. They had speculated how much loot their brothers would take, and how many white women there were.

"Good thing that we left when we did," said Diana dryly. "Must be your protective influence that saved us, Morrighan." She winked at Marguerite.

"Probably not, or we'd have been up sooner and on our way even earlier," commented a droll Veronica Malone. "As is, we must have barely missed those savages."

Davenport read a funeral service, although none of the dead blacks were likely to have been Christian. Still, the whites felt better for the effort. Then, they mounted the trucks and left, Wanjiru riding with Chege. She wept, but seemed reassured to be with him.

CHAPTER NINE

Capt. Craig Thorne of the King's African Rifles reined in his horse and signaled for his black sergeant to join him. When that man trotted up, Thorne asked how much further the river was. He needed to water his men and their mounts, and refill their canteens soon. The patrol had been up north, fighting Somali raiders who often crossed the Kenya border to capture slaves and to poach ivory.

"Bwana, this river, he is maybe an hour's ride. Still, that way." The sergeant pointed. "Maybe this time of year, he is mostly dry. But always, if we dig in the river bed, there is water. _Tembo _(elephants) dig this way, and they always drink."

"I hope so," replied Thorne. "We're getting pretty dry. Right, thanks, M'bombe. Go tell the lads to buck up. We'll camp soon after we get water."

His lieutenant rode over. "Any hope of shooting some game soon, boss? The_ askaris_ have been grumbling about the rations. I'm tired of hard tack and bully beef, myself. Mrs. Clifford didn't raise her little boy to live on dust and canned food."

Thorne smiled wryly. "After we get water, we'll push on to get clear of the river and whatever might come there. I don't fancy elephants or rhino bumbling into camp tonight. Let alone hippos! They range quite a ways from water at night. No worries, Clive. I'll let you take out a shooting party to collect some Tommy gazelles or impala before we camp. I crave fresh meat, myself. Tomorrow, we'll check in with the DC and have tea with him, I expect. With luck, Mrs. Musgrave will invite us to dinner. She sets a nice table. And I want to ask Sir John about those drum messages we heard concerning that damned witch doctor. Natives always exaggerate, but that could be grim business, if it's true."

The officers trotted on, talking about the _mundumugu,_ and whether he had in fact gotten together a sizeable force. If he had, their return to Nairobi might be delayed.

They found the river and journeyed along it until they reached a stretch without animals drinking, and where the water was relatively clear. Thorne had men draw buckets of water, which they strained, then boiled. He called over the sergeant and corporal that he'd borrowed from the Kenya Regiment, the white soldiers. (In the KAR, only the officers were white.)

"Sergeant, get ample water for the jacket of your Vickers gun. If we find that witch doctor's men, we may have need of your talents."

The Vickers machinegun was water-cooled, to prevent the hot barrel from burning up during sustained fire. It and its crew had been borrowed in case of need along the northern frontier, where superior forces of Abyssinian bandits or Somalis might attack his column. In a pitched battle, where he could establish a defensive position. the machinegun might make the difference in whether he and his command survived. He also had several Lewis light machineguns, but they weren't as suitable for sustained fire, and the Vickers fed its .303 rifle ammunition from a long belt. The circular "drum" magazines that fit atop the Lewis guns held fewer cartridges, and magazines had to be changed frequently in a prolonged battle.

"Right, Sir, we're on it. One of the a_skaris_ is already drawing water for us. We'll keep five canvas bags of it handy. Captain, do you mind if we trot down the river a bit and collect some meat? The lads are clamoring for it."

"You, too, eh? Lt. Clifford just had the same thought. All right, Jeffords, you and the Lieutenant take some softnosed sporting ammunition and shoot as many gazelles as you fancy we need. I have a victualing permit from the game department to allow it. We may shoot a buffalo on the way back to Nairobi later, and share the meat with some village. But not tonight. I want to make camp soon. Take five troopers in case you encounter anything nasty, and get back as soon as reasonable. I want to camp within the next hour or so. We'll have enough water boiled and cooled by the time that you're back"

"Thank you, Sir!" The sergeant saluted and looked to see Clive Clifford already reining his horse alongside, a grin on his face. The sergeant was a reservist, and when not on active duty, was the son of a local farmer. He liked his game and knew how to hunt properly and process meat. Clifford was only a year out of Sandhurst (the Royal Military Academy) , and had not had many chances to hunt since reaching Africa. He was looking forward to it.

The men stalked the savannah near the riverine bush, and in short order, had four Thomson's gazelles and two impala down. They cleaned them efficiently, lest the meat spoil, and hoisted the dead animals onto their saddles. The horses snorted and bucked a little, then settled down for the ride to the column.

On the way back, Clifford saw a plume of dust on a nearby road. He raised his binocular, and saw a car with what looked like two women in it. The sergeant confirmed this, and said, "I know them, sir. It's Anne and Jennifer Croft. Their mum took off for England two years ago, but they and their dad stayed on here. He died a few months ago - heart attack- but they're trying to make a go of raising coffee. Probably having a rough time of it, with no man to run things. They're awfully nice girls, not to mention, real lookers. I hope they make it. Got a damned fine piece of land."

Clifford said, "I expect we'd better hail them and see if they know anything about this witch doctor. Might be nice to meet them, anyway, eh?" He tried to hide his interest in meeting two apparently attractive young women.

Sgt. Jeffords grinned, and said, "Righto, sir. Good idea."

The soldiers galloped toward the road, and the car swerved in their direction, the driver blowing a hoot on the horn to be sure that they had been seen. As it happened, the girls also wanted to talk to the soldiers.

When Clifford and Jeffords trotted up, their black askaris holding back a little, Anne Croft introduced herself and her sister and asked, "What are you doing about the _mundumugu_? Our wogs said that he's been raiding their shambas! We sent our Africans into the bush to hide, and we're on the way to see the D.C., and maybe stay there for a few days until troops arrive."

Clifford explained that his patrol had been up in the Northern Frontier District and had heard only a few drum signals about the matter. "We were hoping that you ladies might know more, if anything has been on the radio. We've been rather out of touch."

"You're it?" exclaimed Anne Croft, aghast "One officer, a white sergeant and five Africans? This witch doctor has a force of hundreds, and he's begun raiding native shambas. We saw one burning not two hours ago! We left home as quickly as we could pack some essentials. He's sworn to drive all whites from Kenya, and wants to be a black king."

"Actually, we're just a hunting party," said Clifford, gesturing to the game hanging over their saddles. "We were in dire need of meat, so Capt. Thorne sent us out to acquire some game. Overall, our command is about 90 men. And we have a Vickers gun and several Lewis guns, as well as our personal arms. I daresay that we can give this _mundumugu _a nasty time if we catch his warriors in the open."

"You mentioned a Capt. Thorne. That wouldn't be Craig Thorne, would it," asked Jennifer, the younger sister.

"Yes, him. Do you know Craig?"

"Oh, yes, we've met," said Jennifer. She seemed to be blushing, or perhaps the sun was a bit hot on her cheeks.

The girls exchanged a meaningful glance, and Anne asked, "I say, could your troops protect us on the way to the D.C.'s place? Are you going there?"

"We are," admitted Clifford. "We were hoping to camp soon, and eat. Bit famished, after living on hard tack and bully beef for over a week, after our fresh rations ran out. If the captain agrees, will you join us for dinner?"

Anne and Jennifer exchanged looks again, and Anne said, "We'd be delighted. We have only our revolvers and a couple of sporting rifles. We shouldn't like to meet those savages where the road runs out and we have to drive at a snail's pace! By the way, David, hello, and how are your family?" She addressed Jeffords.

"They were well when I last saw them," the sergeant replied. "I've been in this soldier suit for a couple of months, and not seen them in weeks. Annual service, you know. After this uprising is settled, you should drop by and see them. I know that Tom would love to see you again." Tom was his elder brother, a bit sweet on Anne.

"Well, look", said Clifford. "We need to get back to the column. Will you follow us? It's off-road, though. Perhaps I should send a couple of men to the captain instead, with a note, explaining that we have the meat and have met you, and ask that he join us with the column. The camping will be better over here, anyway. We'll be able to see Karanja's mob at a good distance if they approach."

"Sound idea, sir," volunteered David Jeffords. "The captain knows the ladies, and surely will agree that they should have our protection. And the terrain indeed favors us staying on this side of the river. Their car can't cross the river like our horses did at the ford, anyway."

So, they got off the road, and Anne and Jennifer made tea while two gallopers took Clifford's note to his senior officer.

As they drank the tea, several natives came by and told them that Karanja's men had attacked their village. "We are all that is left," wailed one. "This witch doctor is a devil. See how we bleed? We are the fortunate ones. Our families are dead. Help us, Bwana!"

Clifford had his troopers get out their medical supplies and bandage the wounds on a man and a woman, and gave water to all five of the survivors, as those Africans told their tale of woe.

When he had heard what they said, Jeffords said," It looks as if we may have our work cut out for us, sir. Maybe we should push on to the D.C.'s place tonight." He looked at the sky, estimating how much daylight was left.

Clifford was doubtful, but said to wait for Thorne. "We need to eat. Maybe we can do that and bash on. If we don't get the hides off these animals soon, the meat may spoil. And I doubt that we can reach Sir John by nightfall, anyway."

xxx

By the time that Thorne led the column to the others, it was clear that further travel for any distance was unwise. The sun would set before they could reach the District Commissioner.

"Our car might get there in time," said Anne, "but only if the road isn't washed out in places and there haven't been any rockslides. But there are some narrow places where the road can be blocked, and any cars coming can be ambushed. Surely, this Karanja fellow will know that. The road is a logical place for him to look for victims."

"I'm afraid that you're right," agreed Thorne. "Sergeant, let's get over to those rocks and set up camp. We can use them for cover if we're attacked. Good place to put the machinegun. Mr. Clifford, get some men out on perimeter defense. We'll rotate them with others after supper is ready. I want them at least 200 yards beyond the main camp."

"Craig," asked Jennifer, "where shall Anne and I stay tonight? We have a tent if you tell us where to pitch it so that we're out of the way."

"I think you'd better be near me and Lt. Clifford," the captain responded. "We'll look after you, and you'll be well protected if we are attacked. We'll have those antelope cooking soon. Afraid that we haven't much else to offer. But we do provide _al fresco_ dining, if the wine list is non-existent." He smiled and the girls laughed.

"We'll make out all right, Craig," said Anne. "Look, we have some pots and pans and some tinned vegetables. Enough for you and Lt. Clifford and the white NCOs' to join us."

A weary Thorne accepted, and the column prepared to settle in for the night.

Dinner went well, and they were all soon in better spirits. But as Thorne posted sentries, they heard drums, ominous under the circumstances. Thorne sent for two of his soldiers who were from local tribes. It took some coaxing, for they were as afraid of the witch doctor's reputation as were most blacks. But they translated the drum talk, and the news was grim.

Thorne swore and doubled his sentries.

xxx

The safaris had pressed on and were in sight of the D C's boma when shadows began lengthening. But all news wasn't good.

They had paused for Roxton, Charles Tremayne, and Stuart Hamilton to "glass" the surrounding land as the others ate sandwiches and drank tea. The men had gone up a hill that afforded a good view for some miles.

"Look there," gestured Roxton, "What's that?" He indicated something moving in the long grass just over a mile away. Their binoculars soon revealed a large number of natives, moving toward the D.C.'s compound.

"That looks bad," Tremayne declared. "Stuart, hadn't we better get down there and warn Sir John and his people?"

"We bloody well had, and for our safety as well as theirs," growled Hamilton.

The safari packed up and drove for the compound, the hunters already preparing to defend themselves if other tribesmen tried to head them off.

"Maybe you'd better shout to those people that you're _Mem'Sahib Juju,_ Marguerite," teased Veronica Malone. Finn grinned.

Marguerite looked up from loading her .275 Rigby rifle. "If they get much closer, the time for shouting is probably past," she said grimly. "The good news is that I doubt that the _mundumugu's_ promises that white peoples' bullets will glance off of his followers will prove true. I suspect that they're about to find out the hard way that he's led them down the primrose path to destruction."

Her husband grimaced. "Let's hope they break and run soon, if it does come to shooting. We came here to hunt, not to fight a war. We don't have unlimited supplies of ammunition."

In an hour, they reached the District Commissioner's home and the police post contained within the same walls. A sentry opened the gates and the convoy rolled in.

A police inspector asked who they were, and on being informed, told them to park off to one side of the compound, and sent for Sir John Musgrave, the D.C. whom they had met on the previous years visit.

Musgrave arrived and greeted the hunters and their clients and safari staffs. He acknowledged that natives had been trickling in all day, telling of death and destruction. Many were terrified by Karanja's claims about his followers being impervious to bullets and by his alleged supernatural qualities. The news of his ceremony in which the chief whom he hated and his wives had been slain and cannibalistically consumed had spread among the Africans, and they were in dread. White settlers were also coming in, in considerable numbers. Others had telephoned to say that they were fortifying their homes, and would make a stand where they lived. Everyone wanted something done.

"I've radioed Nairobi, and two battalions of the Kenya Regiment and additional KAR troops will be here by train in a day or so. More police are coming, too. The rub will be to get through tonight and into the afternoon tomorrow. By then, we should have enough force on hand to move against this blackguard on his own turf. Until then, I'm afraid that all we can do is to hold here and try to fight off any attacks.

"Blacklaws, Hamilton, Alex, I am glad to see you and to have you join us. And Lord and Lady Lindemere and Lord and Lady Roxton, it is good to see you again. Lady Roxton, you and your charming friend Mrs. Challenger will be pleased to know that if we are attacked, I will be delighted to have you shoot as many of those fellows as you please." He chuckled. "This time, there will be no question of legality."

"I don't want to shoot anyone if I don't have to," replied Marguerite coolly. "We don't have a lot of ammunition, anyway. Sir John, may we see Amanda? I have been looking forward to greeting her again."

"She's out back, getting some refugees settled in," the D.C. answered. "But we have been expecting you. She told me that you'd be dropping by, having corresponded with you. She's very keen to see you, too."

"What about those warriors that we saw on the way here? They may be here at any time. We couldn't drive fast enough until we got to the road to beat them here by much!" Finn was worried, and Musgrave saw that her distinguished husband was also concerned.

"I may have the answer to that, ma'am," said the inspector as he walked up. "Did you come from the southwest?"

Roxton nodded. "We were camped near a village called M'Bamba. People there warned us about the _mundumugu_. We drove pretty straight to get here as soon as practical."

"I'm afraid that I may know what became of your pursuers. There's now a column of smoke rising from a village that's en route to here from your former location. I rather fancy that those rebels stopped to raid that village. That's why we haven't seen them yet. But I'll wager that they'll be here by dusk." The inspector ran his eyes over the newcomers. "We'll have our work cut out for us if they attack in the dark."

CHAPTER TEN

Back in Thorne's camp, they had just finished dinner, much aided by the canned vegetables from the ladies, when a shot rang out from one of the pickets. The soldiers stood to, but it soon proved that all that had happened was that a black sentry had fired at a noise. He had at least hit his mark, for a dead jackal lay where he had aimed. It had probably been attracted to the camp by the smell of cooking meat.

Thorne was angry, but also amused. He told the man to be more careful of what he shot at. "We can't have you killing one of us who's just gone to the potty now, can we?"

The sentry was contrite, but said, "Bwana, the noise was low for a person, but I thought that an attacker might be crawling towards me, or that the _mundumugu_ had transformed himself into a jackal or a honey badger."

Thorne stopped himself from swearing at native gullibility. These people really weren't down out of the trees yet in some ways, and they believed what they believed. It was quite credible to this African that a witch doctor might turn himself into an animal.

He admonished the man to be more careful, telling him that such tales of witch doctors were rubbish. It was all that he could do, and he returned to his tent.

There, he had to tell the white NCO's, the ladies, and his lieutenant what had happened. "Clive, remember this. These are the sort of troops that we command." Thorne was disgusted, and the others rolled their eyes.

Jennifer wanted to laugh. She took Thorne by the shoulders, kissed him and said, "Oh, Craig! Thank you for saving us from the enchanted jackal! Whatever would Anne and I do without you?"

They did laugh at this, even Thorne enjoying the kiss and the humor.

"Right, you funny people: back to bed. We need to get to Sir John's place early tomorrow. They may need us there."

Jennifer led the captain aside and said softly, "Craig, I hope that I didn't embarrass you. But I've wanted to find an excuse to kiss you all day. I remember how well you kissed me the last time we were together. A girl doesn't forget that. Can we do something together after this witch doctor affair is over? Anne and I would love to host you at our place. Have you got any leave coming? You could stay a week or so and get in some fine shooting. We need some predators and extra game cleaned out, anyway." She hoped that she wasn't blushing as badly as she felt that she was.

"In fact, I can probably take some leave soon," he admitted. "Might I hope for a better kiss, when we don't have an audience?"

She blushed crimson now. "Actually, if it won't embarrass you too much, you can have as good a kiss as I can manage, right now, or at any time you wish. I like you, Craig, very much. You stir things in me that no other man has. If we were alone, who knows what I might do, if led into it by you? I'm sorry to sound like a brazen hussy, but you make me want to be shameless with you. And if I don't tell you this, some other woman may, on her behalf. I should hate that, for I like being with you more than I dare say."

She leaned into him, and he took her in his arms. "Jennifer, I have hoped that you might feel this way. I, too, have missed you, very much. There are things that I want to say, that I dare not now. But I want very much to visit you. I need to decide about my future, and I want to discuss that with you before I make some important decisions. Now, get back into your tent before I yield to temptation and scandalize the entire camp!"

He kissed Jennifer, and smacked her on her desirable behind as he turned toward his own tent. She went so weak in the knees with desire and joy that she stumbled a bit as she ran to her own cot.

"I do hope that you managed to reassure the lady, Sir," said Clive Clifford. "It doesn't do to have girls worried about this wog wizard who's got so many people in a dither." He was clearly trying to keep a straight face, as were the white NCO's. They had seen more into the shadows than Jennifer and the captain had realized that they could.

Thorne grinned, in spite of himself. "I hope to reassure her a great deal more when this is over, you varlet! Now, you lot get off to sleep. Dawn comes early."

xxx

Amanda Musgrave came around the house from where she had been overseeing the barbecuing of several game animals shot earlier in the day. Anticipating a siege and seeing the arrival of refugees, her husband had sent out some policemen to kill a buffalo and a number of antelope. Kettles boiled vegetables from the garden and from the cans and jars brought by the unexpected guests.

The settlers had seemingly decided to treat the threat from the witch doctor's men as a social occasion, and were breaking out refreshments. Neighbors were greeting one another, discussing everything from cattle dips to horse racing and hunting.

When she saw Marguerite Roxton and her mate, Lady Musgrave called to them and rushed over as fast as was dignified for the wife of the District Commissioner.

"Marguerite! John! What a lovely surprise! I suppose that you've heard that we may be attacked by some black demon's rebels? We've been fortifying the place, but John says that troops will reach us tomorrow. And we're well armed. I think all will be well. But we'll have to wait until all of these unexpected guests trickle off home when the matter is ended. Then, we can receive you properly, and I do so much want to learn that wicked dance that you mentioned, Marguerite. Where are the Challengers, and have the Malones joined you again?"

Marguerite hugged her and said that both of the other couples were there, probably talking with the police and the settler leaders about how best to defend the _boma_ if the enemy did come.

Amanda invited them in with a few other close friends to where she and her servants were serving a more intimate dinner within her home.

Her husband soon arrived with the Challengers, the Malones, and some local companions. A party began, as drinks made the rounds, and people mixed and met.

Finn and the other former Treehouse women were talking when some local women came over and introduced themselves. They were getting acquainted when one woman said, "Oh, dear: here comes Alice Winters, and I'm afraid that she's had a few too many drinks. Again, bless her heart."

Alice peered owlishly at the safari women and demanded, "Do I know you?"

"I don't believe so," Marguerite ventured. "I'm Marguerite Roxton, the Countess of Avebury. My friends and I and our men are on safari. We came last year, and liked it. Most of the time." She avoided mentioning their adventure with the slavers, hoping that it wouldn't arise.

"Really?" asked a skeptical Alice, as several other ladies drifted over to join the group. "And who are you?" she asked Finn. "The bleeding Duchess of Kent?" She smirked.

"Uh, no," said Finn. "I don't look anything like her. She and the Duke live maybe a mile from George and me, and I've seen her at a couple of parties. In fact, they came to a book signing party for us, and their being there got a lot of social climbers to come and buy my books." She grinned.

Alice squinted. "Why do you have to sell your books if you can afford to come on safari?"

"Mrs. Challenger is an author. She writes the books that she was selling." Susan Wilson was proud of her boss, and amused by the woman who had drunk too much before dinner, And she felt that it couldn't hurt to let everyone know that an author was present...just in case anyone wanted to place a book order. As long as the _mundumugu'_s rebellion had caused people to congregate here, maybe they could use the event to their advantage.

"Who is Mrs. Challenger?" asked another lady. "My husband is talking to a Prof. Challenger in the next room. Very distinguished looking large man with reddish golden hair. Seems to know a lot about some new crop fertilizer that he said he's invented. My Paul seems very interested. We have a farm, you know."

She looked at Finn and Susan. "Are you girls his daughters?"

Finn tried to hide her pique. "Susan works for me, my secretary. And I'm not George's daughter. I'm Mrs. Him." She flashed her wedding band, the finely knurled gold ring being what she wore on safari, with her diamond ones packed away except for formal gatherings.

"Of course you are, my dear," said Alice. "And Gwyneth," she confided in a friend, "this brunette lady is the Countess of Avebury." She winked.

Amanda Musgrave walked over and said," Yes, we met the Earl and Countess last year, and the Challengers. I'm honored to have them as our guests again. Everyone, dinner is served. Let's go in and find our husbands and be seated. Susan, would you like to sit by Finn?"

She would, looking proudly at her boss and friend.

As the food was being passed around and the wine poured, Sir John took his place at the head of the table. He called for silence and said, "Sorry all, but there's been some bad news. I've had a telegram saying that the troop train expected tomorrow has been delayed. It seems that Karanja's men have torn up the tracks some 50 miles from here. Trucks and a repair crew are being dispatched from Nairobi tonight. But I think we may be for it until they arrive. Lets not drink too heavily; we may have to defend ourselves in a few hours. I'll establish a watch schedule, and if the enemy approaches, we'll stand to arms. In the meantime, enjoy dinner. I'm just sorry that this savage had to start a rising. We haven't had a bad one here since the Nandi war of 1906. Anyway, dig in, and eat heartily. At least, this has gotten us all together, and we haven't seen some of you in months." He sat, accepting a glass of wine from his wife.

Talk was at once of the "rising", and of how soon the enemy might arrive and his likely capabilities.

Alice fixed her eye on Marguerite Roxton and demanded in a voice that could be heard over the others, "Are you really a flaming countess?"

Roxton gave her an annoyed look. "Yes, she is. And the blonde lady with the professor is really Mrs. Challenger, the writer. I'm sure that she'll sell you autographed copies of her books if you like. Now, perhaps Sir John will let us know our posts in case anything happens."

Musgrave began describing the defenses and assigning men to cover the area. He had gotten about halfway through his speech when Alice said loudly, "I've never met a damned countess before. Can't your husband just tell the witch doctor to go away? I mean, he's a bleeding lord, isn't he?"

"He shoots quite well, too," observed Challenger. "And I rather fancy that Karanja will be more impressed by that."

"Speaking of which," Marguerite asked, "do his followers really believe that white people's bullets will bounce off of them? Are they that stupid and primitive?"

"I'll answer that, Marguerite," said Stuart Hamilton. "These wogs can be remarkably clever about some things. My camp cook does wonders with an old tin oven. But when it comes to superstition, they do odd things. They routinely smother children born feet first, or if a vulture's shadow passes over the hut where a woman is giving birth. They think that both impose a curse, a '_thahu'_. If they believe enough in a witch doctor, they can truly think that his fantastic claims are true."

"We had a horrible famine strike the Zulu where I come from," said Geoff, the South African. "One of their shamans dreamed that they should kill all of their cattle, and the gods would create even more. Didn't happen of course. His medical and miracle worker credentials were badly tarnished by that. In fact, the other kaffirs killed him." (Note: yes, it's a true story.)

"Why do they make such outlandish claims?" Marguerite persisted. "As soon as my husband or Mem'Sahib Bunduki here draw a bead on him or his lot, that claim will be proven false. I shoot rather well, myself."

Musgrave shrugged. "I suppose these medicine men have colossal egos. Rather like some politicians in England, if Lord Roxton will excuse the comment. And, Karanja likely believes his own claims. He's probably quite mad. I'll try to hang him if he's caught, if his solicitor doesn't get him off on an insanity plea."

"No worries," laughed Susan. "If Mem'Sahib Bunduki sees him, he's history. A very small footnote in history, I should think."

Alice demanded, "Who the hell is this Mem'Sahib Bunduki I keep hearing about? Is she some expert shot, or what?"

Roxton was becoming vexed with Alice. "She's Mrs. Challenger, Finn, the lady next to the Professor. She's my usual hunting partner, other than my wife. And she indeed hits what she shoots at. If the _mundumugu_ gets past me, my wife, or Prof. Challenger, Finn will likely kill him."

"What about me?" demanded Ned Malone. "I usually hit what I shoot at, too, including a black mamba that almost killed the Challengers last year."

"You certainly did, Ned," conceded Challenger. "As for a practical issue...Sir John, might we be issued some .303 ammunition? Several of us in the three safaris own .303's for light rifles, and our cartridge supply is modest. We came to hunt, not to fight a war."

Musgrave said that he'd have the police issue rifle ammunition to those with .303's, that being the British service cartridge. "We have good stocks of it here, thank goodness. This post often resupplies Army patrols, so we stock ammunition and other stores. And we have three wells here. We shan't want for water if the siege is prolonged. Any other questions?"

"Where can I buy Mrs. Challenger's books?" asked Grant Fellowes, a local farmer and magistrate. "I've heard about them. Is it true that you ladies wore rather less in that Brazilian jungle, young lady? I gather that there are some notorious photos and drawings..."

Marguerite saw her chance to tease her "sisters". "Only the blondes did that, sir. I was respectably dressed, as befits a lady. But what can one expect from blondes?" She smirked at Finn and Veronica.

Most laughed, especially when Finn stuck out her tongue at Marguerite and Veronica tossed a lemon slice at her.

As dinner ended and people broke up into groups to discuss what they would, several men and two younger women cornered Finn and gave her book orders. Susan took down their addresses and accepted the money with relish. As Susan wrote out receipts, Finn got out all three of her titles, and let those interested examine them, to see what they were ordering. She sold what copies she had, and promised to expedite delivery on the rest. Asked for autographs, she signed both her normal name and, on request, as Mem'Sahib Bunduki. The native name amused many there. She gave autographs on whatever paper those asking had, as the book supply was limited. She was radiant, excited to meet her fans, and Susan was also clearly thrilled, if her efficient self. Challenger also looked proud.

Marguerite took Challenger aside and whispered," Good thing that you taught our Finnykins to write, George. She has so much fun signing those autographs." She winked evilly, knowing that Challenger would defend his wife.

Instead, he said, "Both Challengers seem to be doing well, Marguerite. I've taken orders for several tons of my new fertilizer." He looked happily at her.

An aide came in and approached the D.C. "Excuse me, Sir John, but I'm afraid that the sentries have sighted a large body of armed natives approaching. It looks like this fellow Karanja has finally arrived."

Alice heard, and still about five sheets to the wind, said, "Well, tell them to go elsewhere. We've already eaten, and they shouldn't expect to be served here, anyway."

People chuckled, and Amanda got two settler women to take Mrs. Winters to a bedroom and try to get her to take a nap. Everyone else got their rifles and went to their assigned posts. It looked as if action was at last at hand!

CHAPTER RLEVEN

Karanja was indeed in charge of the approaching group, some 300 strong. He should have had nearly 200 more men, but after raiding the village that the inspector had seen smoking in the distance, his followers had found native beer in many of the huts. A celebration had been planned, and beer and food were on hand. So were the women who were allowed to live, and between raping them and swilling beer, many of his number had fallen asleep or had become too lethargic to march further that day.

Furious, his lieutenant in charge had had the women bound and placed in huts that could be easily watched. Then, he and some of the more intelligent, alert, followers had dumped the remaining beer, despite threats from the rioting savages. Eventually, things quieted down, but his war chief of this group had had to send word to Karanja of what had happened, and tell him that he would try to rouse the sleeping or drowsy men by dawn, and march to join Karanja's main body of the force.

Karanja had been beside himself with rage, but he knew his fellow Africans, and wasn't as surprised as he might have been. His command was hardly as disciplined as a formal group of Masai, let alone the Zulus found much further south on this continent. He would surround the D.C.'s boma and start drums beating to drive the whites and the black refugees within mad with dread.

As soon as more of his people trickled in, he initiated this plan, having a group of men begin chanting his praises. He soon felt much better. He decided to wrap his blanket around himself and sleep, telling most of his men to do likewise. "Sing sometimes until dawn," he admonished his sub chief. "Keep the white devils uneasy."

But as he drifted off to sleep, he was horrified and frightened to hear that the whites also knew how to sing!

There was a rumble of drums and a blare of police trumpets, then the strains of, "God Save the King" reached him! It sounded as if more people were in that fort than he'd realized. And from the way that they were singing, they were anything but terrified...

It turned out that a number of men present sang in local choirs, some of them Welsh. That led to a rendition of, "Men of Harlech", the defiant notes not lost on the defenders or on Karanja's warriors.

Finally, the police band played, "The British Grenadiers", to general applause. "I certainly wish that the Grenadier Guards were close at hand," remarked Roxton. "They'd make short work of that lot."

Marguerite took his arm, kissed him, and said, "Why do I need the Grenadier Guards? I have you." Roxton's heart was full, and he knew a great bliss as he turned her in his arms and took her lips with a passion unseemly in public, as some clearing of throats and harrumphing soon made clear to the noble couple!

Embarrassed, they nonetheless strolled arm-in-arm to the area where John would make his stand if the enemy came for them before reinforcements arrived. Others noticed that they stood very close, and several times, they kissed or rubbed noses.

Amanda Musgrave saw, and led her husband behind some boxes and let him know in no uncertain terms that he was her champion, and that as soon as the emergency had been resolved, she wanted to prove it to him at some length. He had been busy letting her know just how much that would please him when an aide came, calling him to inspect the defenses. But he went more happily than he would have, had his wife not made her feelings known.

xxx

George and Finn Challenger excused themselves from talking to the Malones and Finn asked George to set up a trust fund for Susan. "If anything happens to me, Genius, see that she's taken care of. We don't pay her enough to save a lot on her own."

Challenger agreed, but told her that if one of them perished, it was more likely to be him. "I think Amanda will come soon, Darling, and take you ladies to the house, where you'll be safer."

"Great," said Finn. "If the other women go, that's their call. But you and I are staying together. I'd go nuts worrying about you if I was with them, and you know damned well that I'm a good shot." She had that defiant look that she only occasionally got, and usually when she was resisting being sent somewhere safe. Normally, if she wanted something, she didn't nag: she was just so sweet and desirable that Challenger hadn't the resolve to refuse her wishes. And she didn't abuse the effectiveness of her charms. On the contrary, she nurtured him as few wives did. He marveled at times how this slim blonde woman had become his, and had told him that she had rather be his than to be a queen elsewhere. And in doing so, had made him realize that science could no longer be his obsession to the degree that it had been until some months after he had rescued her from an ominous fate, in her own time. He taught her to read and to care for moral principles. In turn, she taught him a broader humanity, and to laugh more than he had done in all of his life. And he had begun to live that life more fully than he had ever expected.

Susan came and asked to stay with the Challengers. They both hugged her and assured her that they would all protect one another. Finn told her their plan to establish a fund for her if they all survived the coming battle. She cried at that, and Finn felt grateful that she could help this loyal employee, who had lost her own family. They were only five years apart in age, but Finn Challenger sometimes felt like a mother to Susan, certainly at least an elder sister.

Ned and Veronica came, and Ned pointed out that they and the Roxtons were all godparents to one another's children." We need to designate some other people to help out if all of us get wiped out. We're too often together when real danger comes into our lives."

They agreed, and tried to think who might accept such a heavy responsibility. Vee's mother was still lost, presumed now to be dead, and Finn was an orphan, as were both of the Roxtons.

Their discussion was cut short as Marguerite approached. "Listen, people: I've asked Sir John if it mightn't be a good time for Morrighan to make an appearance and see if I can scare the devil out of those savages." She was smiling a triumphant grin, ready to do mischief unto the enemy.

"Uh, Marguerite, is that a good idea?" wondered Veronica. "These settlers are probably not too wild about some white woman pretending to be a reincarnated Druid priestess. And it may conflict with their Christian beliefs, especially for the several Boer families. And I bet the women in particular will raise Cain if they see us in those outfits. When we did that in camp, it was among friends, and there weren't any older, really conservative people. But here..."

"Quite right," agreed Lady Roxton. "But, being my brilliant self, I've arranged with Amanda Musgrave to borrow some black sheets and tablecloths that we can use for robes. No pointed hats, I'm afraid, but we aren't that sort of witch. And she has some long white candles that will do nicely. We just walk around in our previous patterns; I wave my dagger, and pronounce a curse on Karanja. Then, I throw some of George's magic powder on the fire to make a big puff of smoke and some sparks, and we're done. Oh: Sir John has an electronic loud-hailer that we can sing our little chant into. And when I curse the witch doctor, the savages can't help but hear. Including Karanja, I hope."

Challenger was concerned. "Marguerite, if you're captured, Karanja may treat you really badly for that." He was clearly worried, as were all of her friends.

But she wasn't very perturbed. "George, if he catches me, my admittedly trim, fit, lovely body is likely to receive his attentions in very unpleasant ways, in any case. I have a feeling that any reasonably attractive white women here are going to be passed around among his minions, and fare the worse for it. Afterward, unless he plans to sell us to Arab slavers, we'll probably be mutilated, as will everyone else in here. By the time that they're done with us, we'll be begging to die."

Ned shuddered. "I can believe that," he muttered. "I read the old news accounts of what Custer's command looked like after the Battle of the Little Big Horn, and what the Sioux did to the soldiers. The lucky ones were those who were dead when the Indians got to them. I bet these creeps act pretty much the same way toward their captives."

Susan was pale. "Will they really hurt us girls much, if they hope to sell us? The slavers won't buy us if we're disfigured, will they? The ones last year told Holly, Vee, and me that we'd face some unpleasant things, like being whipped and trained. But they said that nothing they did would mark us permanently, unless they decided to brand us."

Marguerite touched her shoulder tenderly. "Susan, these people are a little more primitive and bloodthirsty than those organized slavers. And when they're going wild or have had enough to drink, they're capable of anything...except compassion. I'm going to have Roxton shoot me if Karanja wins this battle. Then, he and George had better shoot one another. They do awful things to men, too."

Roxton was red-faced. "Marguerite, I'm not sure if I can do that. I love you so very much..."

"And that's why you had better kill me," she said. "If you love me, John, don't let me be captured alive."

She looked at Finn and at Felicity Tremayne, who had walked up with her husband. "All right, F and F. We need to get our black robes on. Finny, are you going to don that outfit that you wore on the Plateau? If we win, maybe some men will rush over to see you in it, and buy your books. It'll be their only chance to see your scandalous attire, just as you wore it in the book photos and drawings. I should think it'd make their night. Or, week!"

Finn was intrigued. "May I, Genius? Will that embarrass you too much? I bet it would sell some books."

Challenger thought briefly, then nodded, partly because he wanted to get Finn's mind off what would happen to them if captured alive. And it was probably quite true that it would result in more book sales, although some of the married men would have to buy the books when their wives weren't looking. "I hope it doesn't scandalize any of the farmers enough that they cancel their orders for my new fertilizer. But go ahead, Darling. I shall quite enjoy seeing you in that outfit, myself."

Finn grinned, kissed him and went to the truck to get the outfit from her luggage. She took Susan and Veronica with her, to help her change rapidly. But mostly, she wanted to talk to Susan in near privacy.

They stepped into a tent to change. Finn had Veronica keep watch at the entrance. Finn put on her old outfit from New Amazonia, or really an exact reproduction, and took Susan by the shoulders.

"Vee, step in here, please," she asked. And when Mrs. Malone responded, Finn held Susan's right hand in both of hers and said, "Vee, I want you to witness this, but keep it to yourself, unless I'm killed. Susan, if I am killed, I want you to take care of my husband. In every way that I do. Marry him if you can. If you will. If he's too old for you, or you can't get him to fall in love with you, at least be the best secretary that he could hope for. But think about seeing if you can land him. You'll remind him of me, which may help. And he's a good catch. You'd have security, and he's a lot more physically active than you may think. George is in really good shape for a man of any age. And he's a real 'prince', who'd treat you like a princess. I want you two to take care of one another if I fall tonight or tomorrow, whenever these bastards come. Vee, you tell George that I said this, in case Susan wants to take me up on this offer. She could do a lot worse! There's just one condition."

"And what might that be?" asked a stunned Veronica Malone.

"That if I don't get killed or maimed so badly that I want to die, Susan had better stay away from my husband, because I plan to keep him!"

She grinned, causing both other women to smile. Susan blushed scarlet. "Ma'am, I couldn't possibly please the professor as much as you do. But you're going to be fine, so don't worry."

"I think we're all going to get through this," Finn conceded, "but Susan, please think about what I said. I mean it. George and you will need one another, and I trust you to look after my Genius." She wiped away a tear, and said, "Come on, you two. We'd better go find Marguerite, before someone burns her as a witch."

Veronica pulled Finn to her and both women cried briefly until the lady whom they were about to look for came in and asked what was the matter. Felicity looked baffled. Marguerite asked her to wait outside and demanded to know what was amiss. She knew that her friends were bold, and that the prospect of battle alone would not unnerve them like this.

Blushing, Finn told Marguerite, admonishing her to keep her secret, as she had with Veronica and Susan. "If all goes well, George isn't going to need a new wife. The one that he has loves him far too much for that!"

"I should say so!" exclaimed a subdued Marguerite. "Oh, Finnykins! What a noble thing to offer! Susan, I'd tell you the same about Roxton, but he likes brunettes." She sniffed and hugged Finn.

They called in Felicity, telling her that what had passed was all some sentimental stuff about Finn worrying about her husband if she was killed. Then, the ladies donned their improvised robes and went out and pronounced themselves ready to do psychic battle with the demented witch doctor.

Some men had built a fair-sized fire in front of the gate. The flames would serve to illuminate the ladies as they went about their somber task of pronouncing doom on Karanja.

Some settlers had grumbled, especially the local vicar of the Church of England. Musgrave had asked him to be patient. "If this mumbo-jumbo will help to unnerve the savages, I'm all for it. Apparently, there really is a rumor that Marguerite is a reincarnation of the ancient sorceress, Morrighan. Even some people back in Avebury believe this, and she performed a similar ceremony in camp on their way here. It made their blacks afraid, so let's try it here, too. If nothing else, it should be good entertainment. Tom," he turned to a settler friend, "you and Bob Hascombe get your rifles and be ready to pop any of Karanja's men who try to rush the ladies as they do their chanting, or whatever."

"Why does Mrs. Challenger have to dress that way?" a woman demanded. "She hasn't got much more on than what the natives wear!"

Amanda Musgrave came to Finn's defense: "Harriet, it's just for awhile. She's trying to sell more of her books about that expedition that her husband led into remote Brazil, to some strange Plateau. She's going to give some more autographs after their dance or whatever the ceremony is. Her readers want to see how she looks in those clothes that she wore on the Plateau. I'm letting John look. I'm confident enough of his love that I don't mind too much if he sees things like that occasionally. I'm sure that all of the men will enjoy it. They tend to, you know." She laughed, and kissed her mate, to his embarrassment.

"I rather think that part of the idea is that Finn will gyrate a bit before Lady Roxton leads the other women in their ceremony," noted Sam Hammersmith, who was a banker on safari when news of the native revolt had driven him to seek shelter. "Her friend Mrs. Malone says that she is a very skilled dancer and that pirouetting around will add a little mystique to the events." He looked eager with anticipation.

"Add a little smut, more likely," said a woman, and others laughed.

Marguerite waved her hands to clear the way for Finn, who was not yet robed, as were Marguerite, Felicity, and Veronica. But the other women wore their regular hunting clothes under their improvised robes. Finn left her gun belt with her mate, to better let her move and to show off her body and the brief black shorts and midriff-baring top. The black boots just added to her erotic appeal.

The drummers from the safari began beating out a rhythm that pulsed in tune with the human heart, and Finn pranced out before the fire.

Bells and cymbals now joined the drums, with an occasional toot from a trumpet, as a carefully coached police bandsman added to the music. All eyes in both camps were on Finn Challenger, as the young blonde dancer enchanted her audiences.

Two women watched through their binoculars, and one reminded the other that Finn had taken up with George Challenger before either could have known that Jessie Challenger had died of flu before her husband had begun making love to the attractive refugee from New Amazonia. "She's clearly a shameless slut," the other agreed. "But she can dance, can't she? My word, this is worse that what I've heard that the French can-can whores do for audiences in Paris!"

But most watched, some more happily than others. And Susan Wilson took 12 more book orders from men who liked what they were seeing...

Finn finished her dance, meant largely to get the natives watching, so that they would see the full show to come. With a few flourishes and twirls, she ended her act and pranced gracefully back through the gate to the improvised fortress.

She was greeted with a towel and a canteen, for she was sweaty and thirsty. She saw both enchantment and disapproval on the faces of those who received her. As she donned her black robe, two girls asked if she could teach them to dance. "What you do is so much more... intriguing...than the Charleston and other modern dances," gushed one. "That was rather racy. We'd like to learn to do that."

"Maybe," said Finn. "I'll ask my husband. We plan to visit here for awhile after this witch doctor is a goner. I kept it pretty tame out there, considering. I have some nastier moves that I figured would upset some people here. How wild do you want to be? My friends are even better dancers, especially Marguerite."

"I shouldn't wonder," sniped a middle-aged woman. "After all, we've seen in the papers how the Countess was once a slave girl in Amarrah. I've no doubt that she learned many naughty things there."

Finn glared at her. "Marguerite is my friend, and she went through hell in Amarrah, and managed to escape, at great risk. She had to relive some of that when she and the other girls were kidnapped here last year. Think about what you said and how it'll make her feel. She's a great woman, who has made her way in life against terrible odds. So have I, for that matter. Don't bitch about her until you've overcome as much as she has, and turned out to be a really nice person, in spite of the odds."

Marguerite overheard and said, "Thank you Finnykins. You are a true friend, and it is a privilege to know you." She leaned over and hugged Finn before they accepted their lighted candles and walked solemnly out to complete their act.

Both the whites and Karanja found the ceremony to be impressive, as the women walked their circular paths, the candles and the black robing lending an imposing air to the proceedings. A policeman carried the loud-hailer, so that her voice would carry to all, on each side.

Karanja watched, then fell to the ground and chewed grass in fury as he heard the Countess proclaim, "I am Marguerite, the Countess of Avebury, and it is proclaimed of me that I am the reincarnation of my former self, Morrighan, ancient High Priestess of Avebury and of Avalon. I was the most powerful sorceress of my time, a thousand years ago, and I come now to curse Karanja wa Kamau and his followers. This rite will cast a pall on his activities, and flummox his ambitions for glory, at the expense of all decent people, black and white. If you would live, desert his cause, and return to your villages to live in peace.

"Karanja wa Kamau, I curse you, and proclaim your impending doom! Hear me! Your star is falling, and you will soon die! I so conjure it! With this stroke of my dagger, I infuse you with a creeping death that will soon occur in real life!" And she thrust her dagger sharply downwards.

"I utter the sacred, magical words: _alnilam, rajak, absonullum, harrak!"_ And she placed her dagger and its silver-capped sheath on the ground before her and danced around them four times in each direction.

"It is finished," she proclaimed. "Karanja, enjoy what is left of your life, for your days are sharply numbered! I have spoken!" And she led Felicity, Finn, and Veronica back into the gate, their tall candles and robes lending a frightening aspect to their performance. Morrighan held the dagger high, firelight reflecting from the bright blade.

"Well, I never..." muttered Martin Featherstonehaugh, who ran grocery and auto repair businesses in Nairobi and in Naivasha."Bloody heathens, the lot of them. As bad as Karanja, maybe."

"Not as bad as Karanja, by a long shot." Stuart Hamilton explained that his clients were actually Christians, and that this ancient pagan ceremony was not in any way intended to compete with their modern beliefs. "The Countess and her husband and friends are some of the finest people whom I've ever met. Ask Geoff Blacklaws. He'll agree with me. This was just to get the wind up in Karanja's followers. They'll be uneasy over this, and when a few drop to our bullets, they'll think that her curse overrode his that was supposed to make them impervious to lead poisoning. You know Alex Davenport, I think? Ask Alex about his clients, too. Very fine couple. Lord Lindemere is Marguerite Roxton's brother. His wife was part of that ceremony. Surely you don't think that Lady Lindemere would lend herself to any cause that wasn't worthy of her?"

His wife joined in. "I'm Diana Hamilton, Mr. Featherstonehaugh. You know my father, Angus Hardy. I was one of the women taken by the slavers last year, with Lady Roxton. She saved me and herself, and later, Mrs. Malone and others, from an awful fate. I think that Lady Roxton is a true heroine and a patriot. I am honored to call her my friend, and Finn Challenger, too. They did what they did to give us an edge in fighting an uphill battle. I'm grateful to them for trying. And Finn is a pretty good entertainer. I saw you and your mates watching her. Go ask for her autograph. She's famous, you know."

"Infamous, more like," spoke the grocer's wife. "But spunky! I like her courage. I've heard her African name, Mem'Sahib Bunduki. Can she really shoot?"

Holly Delaterre Blacklaws laughed. "Yes, she shoots better than Diana here, and that's saying something! And I can't tell you how glad I was when she saved me, Diana, Mrs. Malone, and Finn's girl, Susan. We were about resigned to being slaves when they and the Musgraves and Diana's father set things right. I think the Roxtons and the others will be great assets when the savages come for us."

So the talk went. The ladies who had challenged Karanja in their dark robes returned them to Amanda Musgrave, and Finn collected her gun belt from her husband, buckling it on and adjusting it for comfort. She drew her Smith & Wesson .38, checking that it was loaded, and checked the keen edge of her hunting knife. Both were as they should be, for Finn Challenger kept her weapons ready for use.

"Are you changing clothes, Finny?" asked Veronica.

"Don't do it, Mrs. Challenger!" shouted a man. "If I'm going to die tonight, I want to die seeing you in that outfit until it happens." He laughed, as did several of his friends.

Finn gave him a saucy grin and blew him a kiss. "I guess I'll leave this on, then, if George lets me. If I went to change, that's probably when the attack would come."

Challenger chuckled. "As a service to morale, then, I'll not object if my wife keeps on her present outfit. I don't mind if I make some of you fellows a bit jealous. And if it gets cold, I have a blanket here."

After some additional banter, the explorers took up positions together with their white hunters, toward the right end of the defenses, near the gate. Marguerite wiped off her dagger, lest the dew from the grass rust it, and thrust the sheath in her belt. "If they get close enough, I'll stick Karanja with this. He'll really feel cursed then!" She winked at her mate, who had sharpened the dagger and knew how serious a weapon it was, if need be.

"I got us some .303 ammunition, ma'am," said Susan. She passed brown leather bandoliers of cartridges to Finn and to Marguerite.

In time, the settlers slept at their posts, only a few remaining on watch. They would need what rest they could get, when the time for battle came.

An hour before dawn, word went quietly around to rise and look alert, for day might bring the charge that they dreaded. One of the girls who wanted Finn to teach her to dance brought tea, with egg sandwiches and croissants.. The explorers let her stay with them and talk to Finn and Veronica, and the girls were soon giggling.

Roxton looked at Challenger and winked. "Not even bloody Karanja the wicked witch doctor can dampen the spirits of this group!"

"True," agreed the famous scientist. "When one has tea, one has spirit. I say, John, will you pour me a little more of that while you're up?"

The men were just finishing their tea and Finn was leaning comfortably against her husband's chest, his arms around her, when noise arose from beyond the walls.

"Stand TO!" shouted an officer, and a trumpet blew the alarm call. The hour of battle was at hand!

Searchlights revealed hundreds of savages crawling toward the improvised fort, and the police and the few soldiers present raised their rifles.

"Volley fire, front rank, FIRE! Reload! Rear rank, FIRE! Reload." The Army captain in charge went through this procedure several times, and then commanded, "Independent, fire at will! Mark your man as he comes, and don't waste ammunition. A dead man is what we want, so we don't become dead, ourselves. If any of you civilians want to join in, feel free. We have plenty of targets!" He raised his own Lee-Enfield, shooting any of Karanja's men who tried to slip around to the side of the main body and gain the walls of the fort.

"I see one!" called Finn, and shot him off of a stack of mealie bags used as emergency fortifications. She cycled the bolt of her sporting .303 as rapidly and smoothly as any member of the 1914 British Expeditionary Force had ever done, and Challenger was proud of his wife. He looked at John Roxton, who had taught Finn to shoot, and Roxton also smiled and raised a thumb in congratulations.

Three native men gained the wall, and Roxton, Challenger, and Susan Wilson at once blasted them into eternity, the three rifle shots coming almost as one.

Susan looked pale. She turned to Finn and said, "Ma'am, I just killed a man!"

Finn touched her shoulder and said, "Great, Susan! You did that very well You probably saved my life or someone else's, maybe your own. Work your bolt. Get another cartridge in your rifle's chamber before another black thug comes after us. And get a clip of cartridges ready to reload. Load after every five shots, so that you always have five more rounds in the magazine, in case you don't have time to reload. They may come in a big rush."

And a rush did come. Finn shot four men in rapid succession, working her rifle like a trick shot at a circus, or a hardened veteran of the Western Front in World War I. A man saw, and muttered to a friend, "My word, no wonder they call that little blonde bint Mem'Sahib Bunduki. Did you see that?!"

The men were also firing heavily, and the attackers soon broke off and retreated. The searchlights and watch fires revealed over a hundred of Karanja's men dead or struggling feebly on the ground, badly wounded. Many other wounded had been helped to safety by their fellow terrorists.

"Well, that's that," declared Veronica. "That taught them a lesson. Ned, will they be back?"

"Probably," her husband replied, and Roxton and several settlers assured him that this was likely.

"We have at least one advantage," conceded a woman who had seen Marguerite's ceremony earlier that night. "Mrs. Challenger's slutty little dance and that witchy mumbo-jumbo will make them think that they're well and truly cursed. Our bullets damned surely didn't bounce off of the savages!"

Finn regarded her coolly. "If you think my dancing is good, just watch my shooting!"

"I did, Sweetie," answered the settler woman. "I hate to admit that I can see why the Professor married you, beyond the obvious reason. But it seems that you have uses other than in bed."

Challenger looked scornfully at her. "Madam, I assure you that Finn is also superb between the sheets. Our children are not adopted. And she is the best companion in all ways that any man has ever known. My wife is fond of declaring that ours is the love of the ages, the romance of all time. I often suspect that she is correct. Don't dismiss her lightly. She is far more than an attractive blonde girl in a brief black costume."

"And what am I," demanded the Countess of Avebury, "chopped meat?"

Her man pulled her to him and hugged her. "No, you're Finn's chief competition for Lover of the Ages. I may even build you a pedestal like that that George puts Finn on in their bedroom at home." He kissed her, and Marguerite glowed with pleasure.

"You literally put your wife on a pedestal?" asked the woman who had badgered Finn. "My word, you must really love her." Her expression softened, and she smiled at the Challengers.

Veronica glared at Ned Malone. "You need to build me one of those wooden pedestals, Buster. I'm tired of hearing about Finn's. Don't I rate one?"

Ned leaned over and kissed her. "When we get home, I'll make you one for the bedroom, and one for the living room. When I'm just especially proud of you in general, which is most of the time, and we have guests, you'll go up on the one in the living room."

Veronica blushed. "And the one in the bedroom? Dare I ask?"

Ned grinned. "To get perched on that one, you have to do things that I can't mention in front of all these people!"

Roxton laughed, and Marguerite also smiled. Finn kissed Ned, and grinned even wider than he had. Veronica blushed crimson, but smiled, also. Challenger chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. He had grown to laugh more easily since meeting Finn, and their other friends often aroused his sense of humor. He felt better than ever before, after coming to relax with this surrogate family that had formed on that remote Brazilian plateau. He had found dinosaurs there, but he had taken home far more. He felt warm all over as Finn leaned into him, and he put an arm around her.

"Look: the sun is coming up," a man proclaimed. "We'd better be sure that our guns are fully loaded. They'll probably come again as soon as they can see well."

Some ladies who had joined Amanda Musgrave in the kitchen came around with tea, more croissants, and Danish rolls. There was butter for the croissants, which had been baked with the help of a French member of their company, a chef.

"If I die today," offered a man, "I'll die happy, after these. I say, Lady Musgrave, you have quite outdone yourself. These are really superb!"

Amanda beamed and thanked him. "I bake better than I dance or shoot, Mr. Leonard, but I try to support our little adventure."

But even as they ate and laughed, everyone thought of what this day would bring. Susan loaded her rifle and caught Finn's eye and that of the girl who wanted to learn to dance. She tried to look brave. And hoped that she would be brave, for she knew that her courage would soon be tested again...

CHAPTER TWELVE

Karanja was furious. He had lost over a hundred men, and the remainder were accosting him, demanding to know why his magic hadn't protected them from the white peoples' bullets.

Even as they quarreled, some men ran forward, shouting taunts and threats at the fort.

Sir John Musgrave turned to the police inspector, "Martin, can your chap with the Lewis gun dissuade those varlets? Be nice if he put them all to sleep, permanently."

And the Lewis light machinegun chattered briefly, three bursts killing eight men and sending three scampering to cover, carrying two wounded.

Finn stood up where she could be seen in the dawn's growing light. She cupped her hands to her desirable mouth and shouted, "Hey, witch doctor man! Morrighan's magic is stronger than yours. You can't compete with the high priestess of Avebury. You've been beaten by a fucking_ WOMAN_!" She whooped, bringing a blush and a smile to Marguerite's face.

"Finn, get down from there!" demanded an anxious Challenger. "Those bastards may have captured guns from someone. I won't have my wife getting shot or arrowed for displaying silly bravado."

Roxton plucked Finn from her place on the wall and set her down by her mate. "George is right, Finny. Marguerite and I couldn't bear to lose you."

Finn sulked a little but saw their point. "Okay, Johnny. I guess that I was finished, anyway."

She brightened as the two girls who wanted her to teach them naughty dances applauded. "Oh, Mrs. Challenger!," gushed one, Samantha Townsend. "You were so brave, and I guess that you told them off! They may really believe that it was Lady Roxton's curse that made them fail."

Even the vicar admired Finn's boldness. "Mrs. Challenger, I cannot agree with some of your language, but I must say, you expressed what is in most of our minds. Countess, I was perhaps too critical of your little ceremony. It may well have jarred those people."

"I hope so," teased Roxton."She certainly knows how to jar me when she's in a bad mood!"

Most who heard that laughed, and the sound carried to the black rebels' ranks. Karanja promised that when they took the fort, Finn Challenger and Lady Roxton would be staked out naked for any warriors who wished to use them. "I will not be humbled by these women's' insolence. Leave me alone now. I will make more magic. Soon, I will discover how to bypass that English bitch's sorcery. When our other men arrive, we will teach those white dogs what it is to feel the wrath of Karanja wa Kamau!"

xxx

In the cavalry encampment, Capt. Thorne and his men were having an early breakfast of antelope steaks and some canned potatoes donated by Jennifer and Anne, from the supply in their car.

"Craig, how will you protect us?" wondered Jennifer. "Our car has to travel on the road, and it passes through that narrow gap that we talked about. If the rebels have set up an ambush there, we shall be in for a rough time, at best. Can you send some troopers with us?"

Thorne replied, "I think we'd all better go with you. Drive slowly enough that we can keep up, or drive up ahead occasionally and wait until we catch up. We'll go ahead on dangerous stretches of the road, where ambushes are likely. That road goes by the D.C.'s place, and we're headed there, anyway. We'll get underway right after breakfast. The sun will be up enough by then that we can see any rebels and you can see any obstacles in the road. Wouldn't do to hit a boulder that's rolled off a hillside or put a tire into a warthog hole."

And so the soldiers and the two beauties with them cleaned up and prepared to get underway, the girls very grateful for the escort. And Jennifer was especially glad to have Craig near at hand. In fact, she was hoping that whatever he wanted to discuss later might make him more available all the time. Truth be told, Jennifer liked Craig Thorne a great deal. In fact, she knew that she was probably in love with him, and her feelings for him grew each time they were together. Maybe this adventure would let her determine if he shared her feelings. She hoped so, in which case this awful emergency would have some good come of it.

xxx

Dawn came fully into day at the D.C.'s compound, and Musgrave looked through his binocular at the numbers of natives swelling the ranks of Karanja's force.

He turned to Lord Roxton, Lord Lindemere, and the police and military commanders. "Gentlemen, we shall soon have to face the fact that he has hundreds of warriors, and this will be a fine-drawn affair, if we survive at all. Lord Roxton, I should be obliged if you and Mr. Hamilton will take it upon yourselves to get bullets into Karanja and his chief lieutenants as they come. If we can kill them, the rest may lose heart and disperse. Please make them your primary targets. I know that you chaps are fine shots. If anyone can nail them, surely you can."

"I'd like to put Finn Challenger up on those mealie bags, where she can get a good view of them," offered Roxton. "She shoots as well as I do, maybe because I taught her. And she knew damned well that careful markswomanship might ensure our survival on that Brazilian Plateau where we met." He smiled. "Besides, she just likes guns for their beauty and for the security they provide in a troubled world. I've seen her kill a headhunter at 300 yards, from a perch in a tree. I think that she can kill Karanja if she gets a clear shot. But Stuart and I will be happy to take a crack at him and their other leaders. If that doesn't work, I'll send Lady Roxton out there to give that lot a piece of her mind. That should send them packing!" He chuckled, as did Lindemere, Marguerite Roxton's half-brother.

Musgrave and the other men smiled. "Well, we may need to resort to something that drastic. But lets try shooting first. If we can kill the leaders, and they see that our bullets aren't being turned to water or whatever that madman promised his minions, they may break. I've got men around back and on all sides, in addition to the front. But I think it is at this wall that their main assault will be directed. Send your women in with my wife. If we are overrun, they can make a final stand from within the house. God help us, I pray that it won't come to that!"

"I'm not going in. My place is with the Genius." Finn had walked over, bringing Challenger a bandolier of fresh ammunition. She looked determined, and Roxton repeated his suggestion that she get up high and try for Karanja.

"Very well, Mrs. Challenger," said the D.C. "But your husband must agree, and if they get too close or turn out to have rifles, down you come, and indoors."

George Challenger slung the bandolier over his chest and took his wife's hand. "She has my permission. I have trusted my life to her before, and she has never failed me, or our friends. I want Finn beside me, no matter what happens."

The Prinsloo brothers, Christaan and Hendryk, stood near, also. Hendryk spoke for both of them, his English heavily Dutch-accented, but easily understood. "Meneer, my wife and my sister-in-law will also stand with us. In the past, our people put their trek wagons in a defensive circle when the Zulu and other wild tribes came at them, and the men shot as their women reloaded their spare rifles. We can do the same. All I want is that we ask God's blessing on us, as our forefathers did at Blood River. He in His infinite grace may well deliver us from the kaffirs."

"What's Blood River?" asked a settler.

Geoff Blacklaws answered. "It was a battle where the Boers, or Afrikaaners, like the Prinsloos' ancestors beat off a bloody great mob of Zulus. They promised God that if they won the battle, they would build a church on the spot."

_"Ja_," agreed Christaan. "It is there now. The Church of the Covenant. And on each Dec. 16, we celebrate Dingaan's Day, after the name of the defeated Zulu king. But we also call this the Day of the Covenant."

"I'll be happy to lead anyone who cares to join us in a prayer," offered the vicar. "I'm Church of England, not Dutch Reformed Church, but I very much doubt that God will worry over denominations at a time like this. Neither should we."

Musgrave thanked him, and the vicar passed word that he would hold a brief service in ten minutes.

He had barely finished his prayer when someone from the front wall shouted, "Here they come, the whole bleeding lot of them!"

"Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition," said Ned Malone.

"Neddy, that isn't funny," admonished his wife.

"Not meant to be," replied Ned. "Here, Honey. Take your .275 and see if you can knock off some of those guys." (Veronica was one of the wives who had insisted on staying with her man.)

Finn was boosted up on the mealie bags and tried to find Karanja in the 4X scope on her .275 Rigby, but he was nowhere to be seen. She did shoot three other men who seemed to be encouraging the hostiles, and then Challenger pulled her down behind cover as bullets snapped overhead. Clearly, the enemy had raided some farms and stolen guns from the slaughtered families who lived there. And arrows began falling among the defenders. The Kikuyu didn't use archery tackle, but not all of Karanja's followers came from that tribe. Some certainly had bows and seemed to know how to use them!

"Here they come!" shouted a man announcing the obvious. And with wild howls and screams of rage, Karanja's followers charged the fort in their hundreds!

xxx

Craig Thorne's patrol had advanced almost to the D.C.'s post when they heard heavy firing ahead. It came from just over a rise of ground, and he knew that the Commissioner's boma was down there. He ordered that his horsemen advance in a column of fours, and ordered all rifles loaded. The white sergeant and corporal from the Kenya Regiment were told to be ready to situate their Vickers machinegun on short notice. Its firepower might make all the difference in a close-fought contest.

Then Thorne turned over the column to his lieutenant and trotted forward with an advance escort of ten men and an _askari_ sergeant.

Jennifer and Anne watched him go, and looked at one another. "He'll be back," comforted Anne, who knew quite well how her sister felt about Craig Thorne.

In about 10 minutes that seemed an eternity to Jennifer, Thorne was back. "Ladies, you'd better leave the car. Bring your weapons and what few other essentials you need, and ride behind a trooper. Jen, I'd be obliged to have you on my saddle, if you please."

Of course, she did please, and the column was soon in motion, Thorne leaning over to brief the machinegun crew on where he wanted them when they crested the rise of ground and came within sight of the improvised fort.

The sound of fighting was now louder, and it was obvious that their aid was badly needed. Thorne decided to have his men ride around the enemy, firing as they went. He had studied the tactics used by the Boers much further south, and knew how they formed a defensive laager of their wagons, as described by the Prinsloo brothers in the fort. And some of their men had mounted their ponies, circling the attacking Zulu _impis_ (regiments), firing from their saddles.

This worked well, as long as those shooting from within the enclosure were careful not to hit their friends on horseback. If the Zulus got too close, the Boers just trotted off, returning as soon as they had reloaded their single-shot muzzle loading rifles. What had worked in South Africa nearly a hundred years before should work here, especially as Thorne's men had modern Lee-Enfield magazine rifles, each holding ten shots before they had to be reloaded. And the Vickers gun would add still more firepower. "The Devil's Paintbrush", one wag had called the machinegun in World War One, and it was an apt description of its potent effect on the battlefield.

But when they crested the rise, Thorne saw that the volume of fire from within the fort was such that his men would sustain casualties if they rode around the enemy. And he would have to place the machinegun so as not to have its deadly spray of bullets hit his own men. Clearly, a new plan would have to be devised, and quickly!

Thorne gestured to the lieutenant. "Clive, get over here, fast!"

When he arrived, Thorne said," Listen carefully. This is what I want you to do..."

xxx

Moments later, Clive galloped off with 40 men. He was to engage the enemy at the rear of the fort, where the defenses seemed weakest. He had a Lewis gun. He would place this light machinegun below the positions of his other men, so that it could fire unencumbered down into Karanja's warriors. The other men would have their horses lie beside them, as they sat or lay in the grass and fired with their rifles. They would be high enough above the line of fire from the fort that the defenders' bullets shouldn't strike them. The odd ricochet would have to be risked.

In their favor, most Kenya settlers were hunters who shot well, and wild firing was minimized.

In front of the fort, Thorne spread his men out above the line below which the Vickers would traverse, its muzzle spraying a deadly arc into Karanja's rear and middle ranks. Again, the defenders' shooting would be mainly below their own ranks. As Musgrave and his men became aware that fresh soldiers had arrived, he would surely warn others to keep their aim low. The soldiers on the slopes above would encounter a minimum of friendly fire.

The women were an additional problem. With little time to solve it, Thorne placed them with the Vickers gun crew and half a dozen riflemen. He charged the sergeant with the responsibility of keeping Anne and Jennifer from harm. Then, he turned his horse and led his remaining men to their firing points on the slope above the fort.

The two men got the Vickers onto its tripod and ready to fire. The sergeant spoke encouragingly to the women, whom he knew well from civilian life. He told Anne that if his assistant was hit by a bullet, she was to take over feeding the ammunition belt into the gun.

"Watch to see how the corporal does that," he cautioned. "Jennifer, why don't you pop any of the natives who get too close? Otherwise, ladies, just keep your heads down and enjoy the show."

He drew his revolver, checking to be sure that the cylinder was fully loaded, holstered it, and watched Thorne for the signal to open fire.

xxx

Inside the fort, the situation was becoming desperate. Several times, warriors had jumped over the mealie bags and gotten within the enclosure. They were beaten back or killed by a flying squad of soldiers led by the Army captain. With bayonets fixed, they clashed with small groups of Karanja's men who flooded through a gap in the defenses, turning over some furniture placed there as a hasty stop-gap measure.

Finn set aside her empty rifle and drew her .38. With the revolver, she killed three men, and then reloaded it and her .303 rifle. One warrior climbed the barrier of mealie bags and jumped down just behind her. Before the man could spear Finn, her husband struck him with all the force he could muster in his strong right arm. Challenger was a big, powerful man, and the blow knocked the savage down, stunned. Before he could recover, Challenger drew his .45 automatic from his belt and put a 230 grain bullet between the man's eyes.

He had gotten out the Colt automatic from his spare guns, because it could be reloaded so much faster than his old-style Colt .45 Peacemaker revolver. That gun was strong and simple, firing a powerful cartridge, but was slow to reload. He wore it in his holster, as he normally did, and had since that fateful day in 1919 when he stepped off of a balloon onto a strange plateau in South America. Only when at home in peaceful Britain was he without it, and it was usually close at hand even within his and Finn's fine home in Kent. But he had other, more modern guns, and was today glad that he had.

One savage ran at Marguerite Roxton, who was trying to reload her .38, the same basic model of Smith & Wesson as Finn's. Finn had talked her into trying the newer gun while they were still on that wild plateau, and Marguerite liked the gun better than her older break-top version.

Now, she dropped it and drew her dagger. She had had a custom cutler in London make her this item mainly for nostalgic reasons, and because something in her craved a dagger like her ancestor, Morrighan, might have worn. The polished double-edged blade was eight inches of sharp steel, and she side-stepped the oncoming warrior and stabbed him in the solar plexus.

Susan Wilson immediately shot two more blacks as they tried to close with the Roxtons and the Challengers. Then, Marguerite kicked her dagger free of the dead man's chest and quickly reloaded her revolver and rifle. She raised the latter, a sporting .303 by W.J. Jeffery and Co. and shot another man as he landed in front of her.

Marguerite, Finn, and Susan put their backs together, enabling them to counter any threat that might otherwise have taken any of them from behind.

Roxton and Challenger and the Malones imitated this tactic, and so were saved from several attempts to spear them. One warrior died at Roxton's feet, trying to kill him with the crude native sword called a simi. The workmanship and metal were laughable by Wilkinson Sword standards, but the iron swords had killed many a man, and sometimes, the Masai and other warlike tribes used them to finish off speared lions.

Just as Roxton had begun to wonder if he would survive this day, he heard a heavy increase in firing from outside the walls. Then, the once-familiar rattle of a Vickers gun reached his ears. BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP it clattered and the enemy reeled in front of the fort.

Soon, the volume of fire from the defenders combined with the shooting from Thorne's men and the raiders retreated.

"Look!" shouted a man," There are soldiers out there! We're saved!"

Musgrave stopped a general cheer by shouting, "Keep shooting! Kill as many as you can. We can't let up on them now!"

Finn reloaded her .303, turning to her mate as she did so. "Genius, I sort of need to confess something to you."

"Eh?"" asked a surprised Challenger. "What? Are you going to confess to having taken too much pride in being the ultimate wife?" He chuckled, loading his own rifle.

"Lover, I'm serious here," Finn persisted. "If I'm killed today, I asked Susan to try to marry you. Will you two please think about that if I get bumped off by those wogs? You will need each other, and our children need a mother. Susan is a terrific girl. She's pretty and sweet, and she adores you almost as much as I do. Think about it, okay?" She looked beseechingly into her man's startled eyes.

"And if you survive?" asked Challenger quietly.

"Then, everything is cool," said Finn. "We just keep going like we have been, except that I may love you even more for being so afraid of losing you. Anyway, promise me that you and Susan will at least discuss this, if I do get killed. Otherwise, both of you forget that it ever came up. I'm not giving you up while I'm alive." She gave him a glimpse of her widest urchin grin and Challenger relaxed. He realized that Finn wasn't hoping to leave him; only to ensure that he was looked after, should she fall in battle.

He set his rifle down, pulled her head to him and kissed her passionately. "Very well, Darling, I promise. I'll talk to her about that. Meantime, just see that there's no need for that conversation!"

Finn smiled wanly, nodded, and looked to her front as another native loomed over her. Before she could shoot, Marguerite had blasted the man from the wall, and Finn sighed with relief.

A column of trucks approached the fort, and paused as they saw what was happening. The column commander and two other officers stepped down and scanned the battlefield with binoculars.

The brigadier in command turned to the major at his left. "Bill, we'll roll up within 400 yards of this mess. Then, you take two platoons and reinforce the troops on the hill in front of the fort. Tom," he turned to the captain on his right, "get your lads into a flanking attack on those rotters hitting the rear and side walls. Take the bayonet to them. They won't stand to a bayonet charge, and you have the men to eliminate them if they try. Kill the lot, if you can. But where the devil did those soldiers already there come from?"

The captain said, "I've been wondering about that, sir. I rather think it must be Capt. Thorne. He had a patrol up along the NFD, and would have been on his way back. Probably stumbled across this affair and lent a hand."

"Very like," agreed the brigadier. "Right, chaps, lets' roll. I want to eradicate this rabble and see if we can get Karanja in the bag today."

With the arrival of the additional soldiers and the machinegun fire from Thorne's force, the natives soon broke and ran, leaving many casualties behind.

But the settlers in the fort had also suffered. There were ten dead, and others being treated by two doctors who had taken refuge within the walls. One young man had been among those admiring Finn after she had changed into her brief black outfit that she had worn on the Plateau.

A friend explained to the Challengers that he and this fellow had come out from Britain several months before. They were prospectors. The young fellow who was speared was just 19, and the doctor had said that he would be lucky to survive the night. His friend asked if Finn might visit him and inspire him to pull through.

"Jack sees you as a real heroine, Mrs. Challenger," the friend told Finn. "It would mean the world to him if you'd just hold his hand for a moment and tell him to get well. I hope that your husband won't mind too much?" He glanced at George Challenger.

"Under the circumstances, Darling, please do what you can," said the male Challenger.

Finn nodded, slung her rifle on her shoulder and went to see the young man. When she arrived, it was plain to see that Jack was in a bad way. He had been speared in the belly and had bled severely before the doctor had been able to stanch the flow. Finn held his hand and told him that if he pulled through, she would personally see that he received an autographed copy of her latest book.

He smiled wanly, his complexion pale. "Thank you for coming, Mrs. Challenger. It was a privilege to see you in that outfit and to see you fight as well as you did in those books. I've read all of them. You are a real heroine. Please thank your husband for letting you see me. He is a lucky man to have you as his wife. And thank the Countess for me. I loved seeing her magic act. I daresay it frightened some of those devils."

"Just get well, Jack. I can't afford to lose a loyal reader," said Finn, wiping away a tear. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Jack squeezed her hand and smiled, then slept.

Finn returned to her mate and friends, telling them about the brave young fan. Alas, they heard a few minutes later that Jack had died.

"Thank you for seeing him, ma'am," said a friend. "Jack died with a smile on his face. Your kiss let him die happy, I think."

Finn thanked him, and when he left, buried her face in her husband's shoulder and wept. Marguerite and Veronica patted her shoulder, and then went to their own men and the little group discussed what to do next.

XXX

The Musgraves sent word around that they would host anyone who wanted to remain for a few days, as soldiers mopped up any remaining terrorists. But the former explorers decided to accept an offer from Angus Hardy to visit his home. Hardy was the father of Diana Hardy Hamilton, white hunter Stuart Hamilton's wife.

The Malones, the Roxtons, the Challengers, the Lindemeres, and their hunters all agreed to stay for a week or so with Hardy, who owned one of the largest farms in all of Kenya.

"Daddy needs some buffalo and leopard thinned out," Diana pointed out. "He'll be really happy to have our help and we can shoot plenty of other game for meat and whatever trophies you still want."

Finn's ears perked up on hearing this news, for she was still hoping for a really huge buff, and liked hunting leopards. It was such a challenge and the hide so beautiful that she had a soft spot for the big cats. If taking one or two would limit their depredations on Hardy's cattle and sheep, that was an added bonus, and she liked Angus and Diana. Not to mention Diana's husband. Although entirely loyal to George Challenger, whom she nearly worshipped, Finn's loins stirred when near Stuart Hamilton. The two had felt a certain chemistry on sight after meeting on the previous year's safari. Fortunately, they had contained their attraction, concealing it from their mates, for neither wished to cheat on their spouses. But Finn still felt a tingle when Stuart was near. This was balanced by great guilt, for she loved George, and liked Stuart's wife, who had been among the girls kidnapped by slavers the previous year.

Nonetheless, she was eager to go to the Hardy estate, where she and Susan had killed a vicious injured buffalo in 1928. The animal, suffering from a native's wire snare having cut a nasty gash above a hoof, had been attacking Angus's native women tenant farmers when Finn and Susan, at immense risk to themselves, had shot the animal. Finn's .400 Jeffery double-barreled rifle had stopped it just short of its goal of killing the two young white women. John Roxton had been nearby, but had been unable to shoot without fear of hitting Finn or the Wilson lass. Susan had also fired her .303 into the big bull, and told Finn later that it had been the thrill of her life. (Being captured by the slavers was also a thrill of a sort, but not the kind that she classified that way!)

Marguerite also wanted to shoot another leopard, and all wanted to see Angus again. He and his daughter had been splendid hosts.

There was just one shadow on the horizon: the brigadier reported that Karanja had escaped. The witch doctor and a few hardcore followers had been seen fleeing the scene, and a search had failed to locate them.

The Roxtons were warned to take special precautions, for Karanja had been heard to threaten her and Finn Challenger. "That worries me just no end," declared the sarcastic countess. "I'll compose a new incantation to make him wither away. Between that and my rifle, he's finished if he comes after me or Finny."

They laughed, but inside, Marguerite was more worried than she had seemed. She promised Amanda Musgrave that she would be alert, and take no needless chances.

The two girls who wanted to learn to dance cornered Finn and Marguerite and an arrangement was made for them to visit the Hardy farm for three days. They would also get in some shooting, and both girls were excited, especially as Geoff Blacklaws and John Roxton offered to guide them. Although both men were married, the girls were eager to be around them. Holly Blacklaws and Marguerite Roxton rolled their eyes, and told their men to be careful how much personal attention they gave the young ladies.

"Hey, said Finn. "They're nice girls, and they're just kids, One is 17 and the other, 19. I asked. Anyway, they're friends of Diana's."

Marguerite gave Finn an appraising look. "You were just a kid when you decided that you liked George, Finnykins. And youth is a strong weapon for those women who have it."

Finn glared stubbornly back. "Marguerite, I was 22 when I met George and in bad need of a therapist and a mentor. He was both to me before he became my lover. And I was a damned sight more mature than these chicks. Don't sweat it: I'll keep an eye on them. They're just excited to be with a couple of heroes who look the part. I'd let George hunt with them. I trust him."

Marguerite was amused. "Well, Finny, not all girls your age or younger see George quite the way that you do. And he'd probably bore them by teaching them the hardness index of rocks, or something." She laughed, to Finn's irritation.

Susan was offended, although she basically agreed with Marguerite. On the other hand, she admired Challenger, whom she had come to know well. In fact, she was halfway seriously wondering if she would have pursued Finn's invitation to romance her mate, had Finn been slain.

"Ma'am," she addressed Marguerite, "the Professor is a very distinguished man, and a very kind and thoughtful one. He's also still a big fellow, well able to protect a girl and make her feel safe. And he knows worlds about things. I think that Mrs. Challenger is lucky to have him, and I am honored to know him."

Marguerite rolled her eyes again, and prepared to make a snide remark. But she was intercepted by Ned Malone, who suggested that if the matter really bothered Marguerite, he'd help to guide the girls.

"Not without me, you don't, Buster," quipped Veronica Malone. "I've seen those two, and no way are they getting you alone!"

"Oh, to hell with it," said Marguerite. "I have to learn to trust John. I'll shut up. But I want Finny and Susan to join those hunts. Just in case. I know the effect that Roxton has on women."

And, so it was arranged that all were looking forward to visiting Angus Hardy. Diana wanted to see her old room, and share it with Stuart, and the others truly liked Angus and his wonderful hospitality.

They would have been less happy had they known the plans of the fleeing witch doctor. He was determined to release his remaining man-eaters, and he harbored also zeal to kill the white witch and the blonde girl who had taunted him...

xxx

Just over a week later, the countryside was deemed sufficiently cleared of the rebels that things were getting back to normal. In the meantime, Finn, Roxton, Marguerite, and Lord Lindemere had all shot exceptional leopards, and Finn and Roxton had each taken another large Cape buffalo. Ned Malone had shot a fine Greater Kudu of which he was quite proud. None planned to shoot all the animals on their licenses, being satisfied to shoot only especially desired trophies in moderation, and for meat.

"I don't understand what you three see in buffalo," complained Marguerite. "The things look at you like you owed them money."

That stunned the others for a moment, and then Finn grinned and said, "You know, Johnny, she's right. They're the bulls of baleful expression."

Everyone laughed, and Veronica congratulated Finn on her now quite articulate use of language. Finn had worked hard to expand her vocabulary, although she had grown up speaking English alongside Portuguese. There had been many Americans in New Amazonia, her father among them. Being able to read had helped her speech considerably.

"Baleful expressions or not, they taste good," chuckled Angus Hardy. "Come to dinner."

And they had, enjoying another fine repast made by Diana and by Angus's native cook. The group agreed that it was now safe to travel, in daylight on the main roads, and settlers were drifting home in groups, staying together for safety when possible. The two girls who wanted to learn to dance had left the day before, their parents having taken them home after leaving the District Commissioner's post.

They had been pleased with what they'd learned, although one joked that she didn't know where she'd dance that way.

"Mum and Dad would evict me if they saw this," she laughed. Finn and Marguerite had taught the women, with Amanda Musgrave, some moves that they confessed had been shown previously only to their husbands.

"I should hope so!" exclaimed Miriam Webster, one of the students. "Those dances are thoroughly naughty. Wherever did you learn them?"

Finn said that she had learned some dancing in her former city, not mentioning that it was over a hundred years in the future, and that the rest had been imparted by Marguerite. She carefully neglected to mention that she had briefly worked as a topless dancer in a bar. That was something that she had told only to Challenger, Veronica, and Marguerite.

"I'm afraid that I learned to move this way as a slave girl in Amarrah," confessed the countess. "I was the best dancer among my master's girls, and that gave me the opportunity to escape, as it turned out."

Then, she had to tell the others of her lucky escape from the evil sultan whose property she once was. (See the tale of that in a separate Fic on this board. The title is obvious: "A Prisoner of the Sultan.")

When she had finished, all the ladies were solemn, and Finn patted her friend's arm to comfort her. That account was still painful to tell. In fact, this was only the third time that Marguerite had told it. Previously, only Finn and Veronica had shared in it, and once they had convinced her that John Roxton deserved to know, she had told him. But with it now in the news that she had once been the sultan's slave, Marguerite decided to tell her new friends, especially Lady Lindemere, her sister-in-law and firm friend. Lady Musgrave was also deeply touched, and promised to keep her secret. The young girls were spellbound, then both came over and hugged Marguerite and thanked her for including them in the small number who now knew what she had endured. To be sure, Marguerite kept some embarrassing details to herself. She had never told even Finn, her closest female confidant, some of what she had suffered. Her dignity wouldn't let her.

Now, a day later, Marguerite thought about that as she ate, and decided that the telling of her ordeal had been cathartic. Still, it was not something that she wanted the world to know, lest it further harm her own reputation and those of her husband and two children. What the papers had printed and inferred had been bad enough. The astonishing thing was that she and the earl had received a great deal of supportive mail, with many Britons viewing Marguerite as a heroine. So far, she had managed to suppress the knowledge that had she not been a jewel thief caught in the act, the sultan would never have seized her. This alone would keep her from accepting the offers to tell her story in print.

"Marguerite?" her husband asked again, more strongly than he just had. "Are you all right?"

She blushed and apologized for missing his question. "Sorry: my mind was elsewhere. What were we discussing?"

"Whether to resume the safaris tomorrow," said Veronica. "Neddy and I need to get home fairly soon. If we're to go back via England and visit you and the Challengers again, we'd all better decide what to do next, and just pick the important things."

Thus, they had decided to move on, and were just getting ready to leave the next morning when a messenger fron the D.C.'s office arrived with an envelope for Lady Musgrave.

She opened it, and called everyone over to hear what it said. "My husband writes that the _mundumugu_ has been found. And, Marguerite, you will be especially interested in how he died. It seems that Morrighan indeed has the gift of prophecy.""

The message from Sir John noted that the witch doctor had released several known man-eaters, both lions and hyenas. Four had been shot, but he asked his wife to warn the others that a few remained at large.

Then, he told how an Army patrol had finally tracked down the fleeing savage and two companions. The other two were shot as they resisted, but the mundumugu had fled into a tunnel near a river. These dense reed tunnels were used by hippos as they passed from the water to forage on shore at night. It was not uncommon to find hippos in the dark quite some distance from the rivers in which they lay during the day.

Because everyone in the patrol knew what that tunnel was, they had proceeded carefully. Karanja was also known to be carrying a gun stolen from a white family who were massacred by his minions.

The pursuers had heard a scream, accompanied by the bellows of an angry bull hippo. There was a noisy scuffle ahead, and it was some time before the men advanced, led by a white hunter armed with a heavy double rifle.

Fortunately, the hippo had returned to the river. What it left behind was the most gruesome sight that the soldiers and professional hunter had ever encountered. Karanja had been bitten in half, then his head had been snapped off by the powerful jaws of the enraged "river horse"!

The remains had been positively identified by native troops who knew Karanja by sight. They were visibly disturbed, and one told his officers that this was j_uju_ business. He had heard of the Countess of Avebury's dance and her curse. One of the safari boys had told others of Morrighan's declaration that Karanja would be hewn in two at his death. And now, this had come to pass...

As Amanda read, the faces of the others took on expressions of relief at Karanja's death. But they looked shocked and fascinated in a macabre way as those in camp that night remembered Morrighan's curse.

Marguerite was herself shocked and frightened by the accuracy of her prediction. It was satisfying to know that Karanja was no more. Still, she was troubled by the dark forces that she might have released. And they would need to remember those man-eaters. As long as they were at large, no one could sleep in peace.

XXX

A few days later, they were back near the village where they had been when they first heard of Karanja wa Kamau. Lord and Lady Lindemere had bade their friends goodbye, as they wanted to hunt elephant with really large tusks, and were headed up to the Northern Frontier District for that.

The Challengers, the Roxtons, and the Malones remained together. They would miss Charles and Felicity, but things were quieter and more familylike with just the Treehouse crew and their hunters. However, Holly Blacklaws and Diana Hamilton had remained with their husbands. They felt unsafe returning home until everything had settled down in the district. And the Treehouse women liked the other girls. Being taken by slavers had formed a bond between them and Veronica and Marguerite. (Finn had not been in camp when the slavers had struck the previous year. She had been on the list of girls that they meant to acquire, and only blind luck had saved her from the same fate. Fortunately, she had joined her husband and her best male pal, John Roxton, on a hunt.)

XXX

The days passed pleasurably until Susan Wilson was sprayed by a red spitting cobra (_Naja pallida_) , the sort that had fascinated George Challenger near the opening of our story. Her experience was grave, and frightened not just her, but the entire camp.

It had begun nicely enough, with Susan, the Challengers, and the Hamiltons going birdwatching. Challenger also hoped to discover new species of small animals, so he was checking traps set out the previous evening.

Finn was very excited, for a native had reported seeing the elusive Nandi bear nearby. She wanted to find tracks and possibly see the famous mythical beast. Cryptozoology interested her, and she loved adventure. The others were less credible, but went along, so as not to ridicule her. But she was keenly aware of their cynicism and amusement. Of her friends, only Holly seemed to think the "bear" might be real, although Challenger tried to hide his skepticism, so as not to upset his wife, whom he loved dearly.

The hunters had stopped for lunch, getting out of the truck and enjoying a full picnic, packed under supervision of the ladies. Finn had carefully included enough dill pickles, for she had learned that her male friends tended to like them. Roxton frequently asked for hers, if they had only two between them. It had become a standing joke between the pair, and Finn always took several pickles.

Besides those, they chose from a menu including cold francolin grouse and antelope steaks quickly grilled over an open fire. Various vegetables and fruits rounded out their repast, which Stuart Hamilton admitted was one of the best that he had seen on any safari.

As the others finished eating and began packing up the remains of their meal, Finn and Susan, with the male Challenger, wandered off to look for tracks of the Nandi bear and to watch some bee eaters in the trees. They loved the colorful birds, and Hamilton told the group to keep an eye out for a honey bird.

Soon, they were seated on a large flat rock, watching a secretary bird hunt lizards. Through their crisp German binocular lenses, the tall-legged eagle looked close, as it paced through the high grass a hundred yards distant.

Challenger stopped to check a trail in the grass, to see if shrews or voles used it. He always enjoyed knowing which small mammals were present, and hoped to discover some new to science.

Susan and Finn were wearing pale blue short-sleeved shirts, with tan shorts and ankle boots. Susan often mimicked Finn's dress, and was an ardent admirer of her boss and heroine. However, she carried her .275 Rigby rifle, a gift of Roxton, who liked Finn's secretary. Finn had her W. & J. Jeffery double-barreled .450/.400. Thus, the girls were ready for everything from a small antelope to big game. Challenger had a Holland & Holland .375 Magnum bolt-action rifle, a good compromise for all African game, and more versatile than his big .450 double rifle. Of course, they all wore their revolvers, too.

What happened left them wishing that they had brought a shotgun.

Finn set down her Zeiss 8X30 binocular, and walked over by a tree, at the base of which they had placed their water bottles, jackets, and daypacks. Finn got a drink, then looked back at Susan, who still had her binocular up, watching the secretary bird in the distance as the ground eagle stalked the grass, meticulously probing for small animals that might constitute a meal.

What Finn saw that Susan hadn't was a motion in the grass near where Susan sat. As Susan lowered her binocular, a red spitting cobra raised its body above the grass, looking straight at the startled blonde Briton. Its narrow hood was spread, and as soon as Susan looked at it, the snake shot twin jets of highly neurotoxic venom straight at her eyes! It was some six feet from her, easy range for the snake.

Susan screamed as the venom entered her eyes, and rolled off of the rock. To her horror, Finn saw a hole under the rock, leading into the ground. They had not looked at the rock from this angle, and no one had seen the hole. It was probably the cobra's refuge. Instead of simply lying up nearby until the humans left, this aggressive snake had tried for its burrow, attacking Susan Wilson when she moved.

Challenger heard a safari boy shout, "Eeehh, Bwana!_ Nyoka_!" (Snake!)

On the heels of this came his mate's cry: "Genius! Come quick! A red cobra just sprayed Susan's eyes!"

Finn had left her .400 Jeffery near Susan, and she fumbled for her revolver holster. The snake sensed her, swiveled and prepared to launch a stream of venom her way. She snapped off a shot from her Smith & Wesson .38 that struck the cobra several inches below the head, and the snake was blown aside by the force of the bullet.

As it squirmed around, trying to regain its balance, Gathiru, the safari boy, yelled, "Mem'Sahib Bunduki! _Hapana piga_!" ("No shoot!")And he threw a stone accurately at the reptile. As it writhed in agony, he ran over and lopped off its head with his panga, the African version of the tropical American machete.

Gathiru turned to Susan, who was howling in pain and fear. He started to hold her down and urinate into her eyes, that being how his people handled such matters. But this was a Mem'Sahib, and peeing in her face might get him shot by the other whites, who wouldn't understand his purpose.

Finn saw what was happening, holstered her revolver, and ran over to Susan, water bottle in hand. Challenger had heard Finn and the native, and also came on the run.

They got Susan down on the grass, Challenger holding her hands away from her stricken eyes as Finn poured water into them, washing out the venom. Challenger ordered the shocked Gathiru to get Hamilton and his wife. His Swahili was sufficient for that, and the Hamiltons came quickly in the truck.

They calmed Susan as best they could, Hamilton holding one of her arms down and Challenger the other. Diana brought a water bag from the truck, and they kept a stream of water flowing into Susan's eyes until it was clear that anything that could be rinsed out had been, and then some. Her sunglasses had deflected much of the venom, and Diana cleaned these off and carefully washed Susan's face as Finn gathered their things. Then, Susan was helped to the truck. They all crowded in, and sprinted for camp. Or as fast as a motor vehicle could sprint in a land resplendent with thorns, ant bear holes, and other obstacles in its path...

Finn sat by Susan in back, with a wet towel over her eyes, holding her friend and secretary's hand, talking soothingly to her.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," sobbed Susan." I didn't see the bleeding snake until it squirted the poison at me!"

"I rather fancy that the snake had its hole under that damned rock," said Finn, whose speech was becoming increasingly British, as she herself now was. "We may have accidentally angered it." She urged Susan to lie still, as her husband thought desperately what he might manage to do to help.

The Hamiltons told them that if they had gotten enough water into Susan's eyes, she might retain at least some of her vision. With luck, not much of the awful substance had entered her body through the eye membranes. Susan said that her lips felt a little tingly, and she looked vaguely blue. Finn looked frantically at George, and the latter said that if Susan continued to decline, that he would inject her with an anti-venin that he had brought from England. In those days, safaris did not all carry anti-venin, which was new, and many hunters questioned whether it would retain its potency if carried around for long in a hot car.

The great scientist had foreseen that, and had made up some polyvalent cobra venom-based remedy in powdered form. It had been very dangerous to inhale, and after packaging a batch in clear gel capsules, he had abandoned the idea, strongly encouraged to by Finn. They had worn protective masks and goggles as they centrifuged and prepared the preparation, drying and encapsulating it.

He had some in his bag in the car, and they paused for him to mix it with boiled water and squirt it into Susan's eyes. She cried as they did so, her eyes red, inflamed from what they had already endured.

As soon as they rolled into camp, they alerted everyone and got poor Susan to her tent. She was gotten into bed, with water now being used again to wash the remaining antivenin from her troubled blue eyes. Challenger made up a sterile, mild saline solution, which seemed to soothe her and removed some of the bloodshot effect.

Everyone wished her the best, and the Challengers and Holly Blacklaws said that they would stay with her and see how matters developed. Everyone else turned to making tea, it being just after three in the afternoon. Susan turned down tea, and was unable to accept soup when Diana brought some. She was having trouble breathing, and was too nauseous to eat. Diana had hoped that the soup might calm her.

Finn ran everyone but Holly out and took off Susan's gunbelt and shirt. She unclipped her bra (a daring style from the next century, as she herself wore) and turned Susan over on her stomach. Finn then began to massage her back and manipulate her arms, forcing air into her tight lungs. Soon, she had Susan sitting on the edge of her camp bed, which seemed to ease her breathing.

Challenger came back with some pills designed to act as bronchodilators. He had prepared them in case of flu or other bronchial infections, but they should work on Susan now. He passed Finn the pills, and she got one down Susan, whose breathing eased within the hour. Some was probably due to the new medicine, and some to the effects of the venom wearing off. Susan's elevated heartbeat also calmed as Finn massaged her and spoke softly to her. In between sessions of this, she held Susan, who buried her head in Finn's shoulder and cried, embarrassed and upset that she had made a scene.

"You haven't made a scene," Finn assured her. "You just had a bad thing happen to you. None of us blamed you for the slavers taking you last year. We certainly can't blame you for having a snake spray venom into your eyes. You just relax and get well. Can you see anything?"

They took off the wet cloth from her eyes, and Susan said that she could distinguish shapes and identify some people, but that was all that she could manage. "My eyes sting," she wailed. "Oh, ma'am, what if I've lost my sight? I'll be no good to you."

"Stop panicking," Finn instructed. "George! Come in, please. "

When Challenger stepped into the tent, quickly averting his eyes from Susan's lovely breasts, Finn gave him a certain pleading look and asked, "Genius, Susan is worried that she'll lose her job if she loses her sight. I think we should keep her on and teach her Braille and find something that she can do for us. Don't you?"

Her husband saw the look in Finn's eyes, and hastily agreed. "Certainly, my dear. Susan, you are absolutely not to worry. If nothing else, you can surely answer the phone and pass on messages and help to run the household staff. You are ours, and we will not abandon you. Good heavens, even if I was inclined to do that, Finn would have my guts for garters if I tried."

He patted Susan's shoulder and she reached for him and pulled him into her, hugging both Challengers to her. "Oh, Professor! You and Mrs. Challenger are the best people ever, to have lived anywhere! How can I ever thank you? You've already saved me from an embarrassing, poorly paid job at the bank, and now this? How can I ever repay you?"

Finn smoothed her hair. "Just get well, sweetheart. George, go get a wide cot. You and I are going to stay with Susan until we know that she has recovered. Susan, if you need the ladies room, Holly or I will get you there and back. You just concentrate on getting well. Does it still hurt much?"

"It's much better," said Susan. "Ma'am? May I lie down now? And will you help me on with my blouse? I don't want to embarrass the professor, and I want him to stay, for you as much as for me."

Finn got Susan's blouse on, making light of how George was trying not to look at something that any man alive would be drawn to want to see. Challenger chuckled, although he really was a bit embarrassed. Susan smiled, and told him not to feel any shame on her part. "Mrs. Challenger is so lovely that I hardly think that I could distract you, sir."

Finn told Susan frankly that she was actually better looking than Finn herself was. "But I'm okay," she admitted. "The genius hasn't kicked me out of bed for eating crackers, yet. On the other hand, I've never eaten crackers in bed..."

Susan laughed. "Ma'am, you are so very kind to me. Professor, what are my chances of seeing again?"

Challenger chose his words carefully. "Susan, your eyes have sustained a rather traumatic injury. I doubt if the finest ophthalmologist in the world could say with certainty what the outcome will be. There are too many variables. We can't be certain how much venom splashed over and around your sunglasses, but they surely kept much of it from you. And we were washing your eyes within a minute of the envenomation.

"My educated guess," the celebrated scientist continued, "is that much, maybe most, of your vision will return. But some optical nerves may need to regrow, and you should take it easy as the eyes improve over the next week or so. That will tell us the likely result. If you see better, your vision will probably continue to improve as the tissue heals."

"Look at the bright side," quipped his wife. "What if the snake had bitten you, instead? It was almost close enough to do that!"

Challenger smiled. "That would hurt like a Labour victory at the polls, and be as nasty. I do have some antivenin capsules that Finn and I made in the home lab, but am glad that they have not been needed. Theoretically, they should work, but I'll happily avoid a field trial."

"We could ask the D.C. to get a red cobra to bite one of the prisoners that they took from Karanja's gang." Finn was joking, although the concept rather appealed to her. Mostly, she wanted to tease her mate and shock Susan. But she was genuinely angry at those who had slain young Jack, her reader, and other decent people, white and black.

Challenger knew this, and laughed shortly. "My wife has never gotten the savage girl from the jungle entirely bred out of her, Susan. Finn, I rather think that Sir John will rely on the gallows to do British justice. I say, I need a cup of tea. Finny? Susan? I can bring a tray for all of us, and the cook may have baked some of those croissants that the French chef at the D.C.'s place coached him about. Ladies?"

The blondes thanked him, Susan saying that she now felt well enough for tea, and that a cup of Twining's best would help her morale. First, she needed the loo.

When the blondes returned from that errand, Challenger rose to attend to the tea requisition when the voice of the Countess of Avebury stopped him in his tracks.

"George Challenger!" called Marguerite. "You and those blonde harlots stop what you're doing, however entertaining, and put on some clothes. You have noble visitors!"

Finn rolled her eyes at her friend's droll humor and replied, "Come on in, Marguerite. The orgy was over ten minutes ago. George was just about to go for tea. Would you and John like some?"

"No worries," said the male Roxton, pulling aside the tent flap. "We have Jerogi and Gathiru with us, and they have trays with tea, rolls and those blackberry preserves that George craves so much."

The Challengers joined Susan on her camp bed and the Roxtons helped the safari boys to bring in and serve the refreshments.

"Now Susan," said Lady Roxton, "Have these lab rats been bothering you? One will talk your head off about guns if you let her, and her husband will have you reciting the hardness index of gemstones if you aren't careful. Fancy a trip to the loo? I'll take you while the others eat."

"Thank you, Lady Roxton," said an amused Susan, "but Mrs. Challenger took me not long ago. She's even helped me to make up my face decently."

"Easy," smiled Finn. "Susan doesn't use much makeup, anyway. Her complexion doesn't need it. Millions of women would kill to have a face like hers."

Roxton was afraid that Marguerite would ask what he thought of HER complexion. It was excellent, and she had retained much of her youth, but this wasn't something that he wanted to discuss.

"What's for dinner?" asked Challenger as he poured tea, passing cups to the blondes. Susan was able to manage things like eating and drinking, although her vision was still fuzzy. Finn kept a sharp eye on her, lest she need help.

"Tommy venison, roast potatoes, carrots, brown gravy," answered Marguerite, her attention diverted from women's complexions. "Sounds scrumptious. Smells good cooking, too. Blast. I shouldn't have mentioned the loo! Now that I think of it, I should go, myself. Play nicely, children." And she rose to visit the mentioned sanitary tent.-

Marguerite finished her mission and was halfway back to the Wilson tent when Stuart ran over and handed her his binocular. "Marguerite, look at that safari driving up. I think the lorry that I recognize belongs to Tim Crawford, a peer of mine and Geoff's. But he isn't licensed to operate in our hunting block. I hope that he isn't bearing bad news. Is there anyone in that open lead car that you or the Challengers might know?"

Marguerite accepted the binocular and adjusted the focus for her eyes. She didn't adjust the interpupillary setting, as she was borrowing it momentarily, and didn't want Hamilton to have to tinker with it to get it just right again for his face.

Steadying herself on Hamilton's broad shoulder, she fine-tuned the focus and jerked upright in surprise. "Good heavens! Finny!"

When the female Challenger came over to see what was so urgent, she handed her friend the instrument and told her where to look.

Finn knew how to hold binoculars steady. She used them constantly, not only in hunting, but in birding and in astronomy. She soon saw what had startled Marguerite.

"Lover! Susan!" she shouted. "Guess what? Mick and Sheila Waring are here!" (Mick and Sheila first appeared in my Fic, "Murder in a Stately Mansion". He was an Australian heir to some of the same fortune left by Marguerite's late biological father. He married Sheila, a servant girl at the Lindemere estate.)

Roxton and Challenger looked blankly at one another. "Were you expecting the Warings?" asked Challenger. The earl shook his head, baffled. Susan sat up straight, breathing faster. What on Earth?

Roxton moved the tea things, and Challenger led his wife's secretary out as the trucks drove up. Hoping that it was silly to take such a precaution, he slung his rifle on his shoulder. Waring had seemed a decent sort, if a bit bluff and hearty, like many of his countrymen. But why he would be here, now was indeed most curious. Did he bear news of more of Karanja's henchmen nearby?

Tim Crawford pulled up his safari beyond the camp and walked over with his clients. Those who didn't know one another were introduced, then Crawford said to Blacklaws and to Hamilton, "I suppose that you chaps are wondering why I'm in your hunting block. Actually, we're passing south, to Tanganyika. But the D.C. and his wife gave us some mail for you and we'll drop it off."

Roxton and Hamilton took letters, and Roxton passed his to Marguerite, it being from Lady Musgrave.

The newcomers were offered drinks and an offer of dinner. They accepted drinks, but Crawford said that he hadn't come to encroach on their hospitality. "We did drive a bit out of our way to find you, and night is coming on. But if we dine with you, we'll happily contribute to the meal from our chop box."

"No worries," said Blacklaws. "We shot several antelope today, and have plenty of meat cooking, I think. If not, old Juma will grill some more steaks quickly. If we have to, we'll hunt again tomorrow. If you're going all the way to Tanganyika, save your groceries." (Note: Tanganyika is now called Tanzania.)

They all sat down and accepted their drinks as Blacklaws read the letter from Musgrave. He caught his partner's inquiring glance, and said, "Listen up, everyone. I think we'd all better know what Sir John says here. I'll make sure that the boys are told, too, as they'll need to know."-

"Is this serious?" asked Marguerite.

"I'm afraid, so, yes. But relax: we haven't done anything. It isn't like last year when he was thinking of prosecuting you for shooting that wog under what might have been questionable circumstances. Not to mention Finn's sniping that fleeing slaver! This says that the police have interrogated two blacks who were among Karanja's gang. They confessed that he had some man-eating animals and would periodically release one near a village, to spread fear. Seems that he had four lions, and three hyenas."

Blacklaws continued, "Well, one hyena has been shot, and one lion. Leaves three lions and two hyenas, as nearly as I can work out the math." Everyone laughed politely.

"Are they near here?" asked Challenger.

"Yes, in fact, Professor. That's why we got his letter. We're the only safari here now, and the place where he released them is near the closest village, about a mile from us. I'm going over there tomorrow, to buy maize and chickens. But those animals will range for some distance from where they got loose. I think we'd all better sleep with our tent flaps secured tonight, and I'll have the boys build bigger fires and keep watch."

Veronica wondered why the animals wouldn't just join others of their kind, or return to being individual hunters of the game usually sought by predators.

Hamilton answered. "Because what we see as a herd or pack is actually a family group, or assemblage of them. Outsiders are warned off, or killed. The packs of hyenas or prides of lions sometimes have horrible turf wars over the best hunting grounds. There's only so much land and so much game. Hunting territories are highly prized, just as with human society."

"Anyone who buys a license can hunt in the States," protested Ned. "We Americans aren't like you land-starved Britons and Europeans." He swirled the ice in his bourbon, a drink that his wife hated. In fact, she drank very sparingly of any alcohol.

"Still have to own land or have access to it," commented John Roxton.

"Well, yeah," agreed Ned, "but in most places, all you have to do is ask a farmer to hunt on his land, maybe give him some of the game that you shoot. Some charge a fee, but it's usually affordable."

"Getting back to the matter at hand," said Holly, "how likely is it that a lion that wants to see how we'd feel inside its tummy will visit us tonight? And can we leave tomorrow after we buy those chickens and maize?"

"Ah, that's what part of the letter is about," answered her mate. "Sir John wishes that we'd see if we can kill any of these animals. Game rangers are being dispatched, but it may be a week or more before they arrive and start looking for them. He realized that you're paying guests, of course, and that Stuart and I are at your pleasure. Will you accept staying here for about two more days? We'll have a look and move on. We won't charge you for that time, or take it from that for which you've paid. I dread upsetting Morrighan more than I do facing man-eaters."

He smiled, but Roxton laughed as he kissed his wife's hand. "I know the feeling," he said, to general laughter.

They agreed to stay the two days, and see if they found any sign of the animals hanging around the village, or if any blacks were taken there.

"I think we'd better push on for Tanganyika," said Tim.

"Too right!" declared his male client. "Back home, if you avoid snakes, rabid dingoes and the odd crocodile, you're pretty safe. Out here, everything wants to eat you!"

"Or squirt poison in your eyes," muttered Susan, a little bitterly.

xxx

Dinner went well, with those who had met Mick and Sheila at the time that Marguerite had gotten her substantial inheritance renewing their acquaintance. After they had eaten, Susan and Sheila withdrew to talk more in privacy. The Wilson lass and a servant girl named Lois had been sequestered after learning of a plot to kill Marguerite, and had been pretty roughly handled by two men who said that they planned to sell them into prostitution. But the girls suspected that they would more likely be raped, and then killed.

It was only by chance that heir Mick Waring and another servant girl, Sheila, had crept up to the third floor hallway and discovered the captive girls in a room next to the one in which they'd been planning to conduct a late night tryst. They had freed Susan and Lois, and alerted the Roxtons just before they were slated to be murdered! After, Mick had decided to hang onto Sheila, and she was soon Mrs. Waring. Marriage to the witty, ruggedly handsome Australian businessman had proved a delight for Sheila, who found herself living a fantasy life from a daydream.

"Being married to Mick is like a fairy tale come true," admitted Sheila, blushing as she reflected on how much she loved her man.

"I need to get a man," Susan said dreamily. "Mrs. Challenger told me during the siege of the D.C.'s place to try to marry the Professor if anything happened to her. He's very distinguished, and he'd take great care of me, but I'm hoping for someone younger. Besides, the Challengers are so close that I doubt that any other woman would ever really replace Finn in his heart. I admire them both so much! Except that I need a bloke of my own, my life is like yours: a fairy tale!"

As she drifted off to sleep later, Susan wondered whether she'd ever fully regain her vision. If I can't really see him, maybe I'd settle for a man who's not really handsome. But I want him to love me. How many worthwhile men would want a girl who's half blind?

She sobbed into her pillow until Finn heard and sat by her, holding Susan until she slept. Finn nearly wept, herself, for she felt responsible for Susan being in Africa when the snake had struck at her eyes. In time, she eased back into her own bed, hugging Challenger fiercely before she slept.

Challenger held Finn, stroking her arm until she relaxed. Then he lay awake, wondering if they'd find the man-eaters. And he worried about Susan's eyes, too. Such a dear girl, and becoming almost like a member of his family.

xxx

It seemed like no time until he was wakened by the personal boy at the tent door. "_Bwana, mem'Sahibs, Mimi lette chai."_ The tea service...

Challenger let in the tea boy and arranged the trays and other items as quietly as he could, to let the ladies sleep a bit longer. But Finn yawned, sat up and helped him pour and lay out hot croissants, butter, and his beloved blackberry preserves.

To let Susan sleep, they communicated via gestures, carresses, and by pointing to what they wanted. After six years together, over half of those married, they knew one another's natures intimately, and sometimes did much the same as they woke fully at home. Granted that the silver tea service that the upstairs maid rolled in at their home in Kent was rather more elegant than the one in this safari camp, much else was the same.

After consuming two croissants and swilling his tea, Challenger leaned over, pulled Finn's short black silk robe aside, and kissed her on the inner thigh, as she sat cross-legged in bed. She shivered, but shook an admonitory finger at him and pointed to the drowsing Susan.

Challenger nodded, pulled on his boots -he had slept in trousers and undershirt- and whispered into her ear that he had to visit the loo.

Finn nodded, and pointed to his rifle. Take that, said her gesture.

He picked up the Holland & Holland .375 Magnum, shrugged into his bush shirt, and slipped quietly out the door.

Susan stretched, opened her eyes and asked, "Ma'am? Do I look awake, or am I fooling myself?"

Finn laughed, told her that she was awake, and to have a croissant and tea. "Stay there," she ordered. "I'll pour and pass things to you. The tent is pretty cramped, anyway."

Susan looked embarrassed. "Mrs. Challenger, I'm YOUR secretary. I should be serving YOU."

"No worries," said Finn. "You just finish getting well. By the way, how well can you see? Do I look a fright? George and I just woke and he's gone to the gents' room. I had to remind him to take his rifle. How that man ever got along without me, I couldn't say, but I'm glad that he has me now."

Susan smiled, radiantly."Oh, Mrs. Challenger, he is also thrilled to have you. I hope desperately to some day have so great a love as you two do. It must be elusive. To see the way that many married couples treat one another in public, I think divorce would be more common, if better accepted. But you, the Malones, and the Roxtons all love one another, and it is wonderful to see. Except sometimes, when Lady Roxton expresses herself forcefully when she gets unhappy. But they soon make up, and most of it rolls off of Lord Roxton's back. He seems an enormously tolerant and loving man."

"He is," gushed Finn. "Johnny is my best male buddy and almost big brother. Guys like him are terrific to find, but God didn't make nearly enough of them. Maybe it's so women will really appreciate the ones whom we do have. I couldn't believe it when I learned that Marguerite jerked him around for about two years before I met them. If I'd known that he loved me, I'd have grabbed him so fast that his head would've spun. She can be so...frustrating and headstrong, sometimes. But I think she was afraid to admit that she could fall for a man as badly as she did for him."

Challenger rapped at the entrance, having heard the women speaking.

"Ladies, if you want to dress, I think I'll join John at the table. Eggs and the rest should be along shortly. Don't dally; they'll grow cold."

"Genius, wait," called his wife. "You forgot your gun belt. I'll pass it out." And she did, kissing him as he took it.

The girls finished eating, talking happily, especially after Susan decided that she could indeed see better detail than she could the previous evening. She held out a hand, concentrating on how well she could see the fingers. Still somewhat of a double-vision effect, she realized. And things were a little red-tinged as broken blood vessels healed.

When it was time to dress, Finn unselfconsciously slipped off her short gown and decided to wear the same black bikini panties that she'd put on the previous night. Susan stared openly, complimenting her on her magnificient body. Finn thanked her, and admitted that she had once felt under- accomplished regarding her breasts. "Not that George ever complained. He always told me that he loved them, even then. But having two babies has made me fuller and happier there."

She laughed, and took out a matching bra from her pillowcase of clothes brought over from the Challenger tent. A light blue short sleeved shirt and tan shorts completed her usual safari look. She chose tall tan socks and tough ankle-high suede chukka boots for her feet, and grabbed her gun belt, with the Smith & Wesson .38 and the sharp Remington stag-handled RH-36 pattern hunting knife.

"Susan? Do you want to ride with us looking for lion tracks today? Can you see well enough to shoot? You can always stay in camp, and Geoff and Holly will look after you. Stuart can lead the rest of us. The Malones may stay in camp, too, unless Ned wants to shoot some birds. He's pretty handy with that Winchester 12 gauge pump gun. And we need some fowl, preferably francolins. Gad, those taste good! Anyway, think what you prefer, while I trot off to the loo. You can dress while I'm gone, if it'll embarrass you if I see you naked. But I think you're better built than I am so no need to feel shy. You are definitely a hot chick, as people used to say where I came from. Trust me: that's good."

She picked up her .375, having chosen it so that the Challengers need bring only one caliber of rifle ammunition to Susan's tent and because she thought it was her best all-round rifle when lion might be involved.

After leaving the latrine, Finn went to Susan's tent, saw that she was making out fine, and headed for the breakfast table.

Everyone was there, deep in animated conversation.

They looked at her as if she had been the subject of that talk, some regarding her cautiously, others suggesting fear or pity in their gazes.

She caught George's eyes, and he dropped his glance, a bit troubled. He walked over and took her hand.

"Genius? Everybody? What the hell is this? Why are you all looking at me that way? Did I get my lipstick on crooked?"

"Finn," said Hamilton, "I think there's something you had better see. Apparently, it was a wise choice as well as being a little noble for you and George to have shared Susan's tent last night."

He led the way over to the Challenger tent, that couple walking hand-in-hand, George looking uneasily at Finn. There in the dirt around the tent were the tracks of a big male lion, and the canvas door had been pushed open. Things inside had been pushed over or stepped on, and there was the acrid odor of lion pee where the animal had left the tent.

"Darling, I think we did well to bunk with Susan last night," said Challenger.

"No kidding," she muttered.

A Wanderobo tracker was studying the paw prints and he began jabbering something at Hamilton. They conversed briefly, and Hamilton said, "Simliki here says that he was told by the natives that were in that first village that the man-eaters all have a scar that runs diagonally across the right front paw of the lions that Karanja kept. He marked them that way while they were out from his drugs, to scare people. They know that such animals belong to witch doctors, so more terror is spread if their tracks are seen. And Sir John's letter in fact mentioned that the henchmen who confessed also cited that information."

Finn had been studying the tracks with Roxton. They exchanged a look and he said, "No scarred paws here. This may have just been an ordinary lion, not that they aren't quite dangerous when they take to prowling around camps. And if George and Finn had been in this tent, even with the flap tied shut, it would have just ripped open the canvas, maybe even collapsed the tent. If a lion knows that you're in there and is hungry, he'll do whatever it takes to get at you."

"We need to move camp, today," Ned noted.

"Too right," agreed Mick, putting an arm around Sheila. "We need to be on the way to Tanganyika, anyway, but you lot take care. Come see us when we all get home. We live just 20 miles from Lindemere Manor, you know."

"I'm hungry, and it's uncivilized to stand around at this hour without coffee," proclaimed Lady Roxton. "Lets eat while we plan the day."

Breakfast was ready, and they dug in heartily, but the Challengers gave one another wary looks, and George squeezed Finn's hand under the table.

When Susan arrived, she sat by Finn and was filled in on the tracks.

"If staying with me saved you, I am so happy," she confessed. "I can tell you, I would have felt pretty lonely without you. If it saved you also, that's even better!"

"I think Susan had better have company if she stays in camp while we hunt today," proclaimed Blacklaws. "Holly and I will stay in the morning, and Stuart and Diana can handle the afternoon shift. Does that suit everyone?"

It did, and the Malones agreed to stay the morning, although Ned wanted to hunt birds later. With him in camp, both white hunters could take out parties to search for the man-eaters.

"All right," said Hamilton. "But I think we need to move camp before we shoot any birds. We'll take a recce this morning, looking for the man-eaters, then break camp and pitch it elsewhere before we hunt birds. No way are we staying here, after that lion's visit. May as well eat lunch here, then break camp. We need to be relocated well before dark."

He thought of something, and called over a camp boy. "Throw some water on that place where the lion peed outside the Challenger tent. It may kill the odor."

"_N'dio, Bwana_," said the man and set off to do that.

"Thanks," said Challenger. "Finn and I had as soon not smell that as we see whether anything was damaged. Darling, do you want to join the lion hunters? I have nothing planned once we put our tent in order."

She assented, glad to have his company. Finn wanted a shot at those lions, and if George was with her, she wouldn't be worried what might be happening to him.

As they ate, they discussed man-eaters in general, the white hunters and Roxton all having some "hairy" tales to contribute. Susan shivered. She was glad that others would be with her while her friends were out looking for trouble. She looked at various objects as far off as she could see fairly well. And decided to practice aiming with her rifles after the hunting party had left. Susan was becoming braver, and she meant to participate in the camp's defense in case the big cats came. "I'm only vision-impaired now," she reflected. "Not blind. And I am fed up with murderous natives and snakes, and with lions stalking through camp. If one of those bastards calls on us today, I mean to shoot it."

And she felt better as conversation shifted to elephants that killed people as they raided shambas. My God, she thought. If animals out here aren't trying to eat you or poison you, they stomp on you or put a tusk through you. I'll be glad to see peaceful Britain again. But some farmer's bull killed him last year in Kent! I guess that life isn't safe anywhere...at least, it isn't dull here!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Following breakfast, the hunters went out in several cars, scanning the ground near the village, stopping there to question the natives.

They soon discovered that the lions had indeed been seen. Two persons had been attacked and eaten, and their relatives wailed as they told how they had been taken. Unfortunately, all of both corpses had been consumed, so there was nothing left for hunters to sit up over, in hopes of shooting a returning cat.

Roxton and Blacklaws looked for the unique spoor of the witch doctor's cats, and sure enough, both lions had a cleft mark crossing their right front paws.

The hunting party circled a patch of thick bush where the lions had supposedly gone, and only one set of tracks came out. The other lion was probably still in there, sleeping in the sun. But only a fool would pursue a lion into brush that thick. The animal would be on top of anyone before they could react and lift a rifle.

But good luck came their way, for they saw the missing beast on its way back into this thicket. Evidently, these lions were brothers or had otherwise become friends, and were operating as a pair. Although unusual, it wasn't unheard of. In fact, the famous Tsavo man-eaters who had almost halted the building of the Uganda Rairway were a pair of male lions. (See, "The Man-Eaters of Tsavo", by Lt. Col. J.H. Patterson, VC)

The lion saw one car and veered away, not realizing that a second car with humans in it was nearby. But the hunters had seen the lion, and were already reaching for their rifles!

Roxton and Blacklaws bailed out of the car and aimed at the trotting lion, which was giving them a dirty look. Roxton fired first, the 400 grain softnosd bullet from his .416 Rigby slapping loudly as it broke both the lion's shoulders. It dropped at once, but squirmed until Blacklaws fired a 270 grain .375 Magnum bullet into its exposed lower chest at 20 yards. This bullet ranged through the chest, and found the heart, which it smashed.

The men examined the lion carefully, making sure that it was dead. "Gives me the shivers just to think what this lion was doing last night as we slept," said the Earl.

"That's well put," said his wife, who had walked up beside him, her Westley Richards .318 ready. "John, there is still another of these beggars in that brush. What can we do? We can hardly just go off and leave it there, to eat someone as soon as we're gone."

Blacklaws replied, "Marguerite, we will hardly do that. It isn't the done thing, especially as I hold a white hunter's license. I am a deputy game warden, and am required to finish this. Law aside, common British decency demands of us that we deal with the second lion. Not to mention which, we don't want to find it later in our own camp."

"Usually, in such a case, we throw stones, or have the boys throw them, while the hunters wait with ready rifles." Roxton had seen this done on several occasions. "The rub here," he continued, "is that that patch of bush is so big that the rocks may never come close to the lion. And, having heard our shots, he may not be inclined to put in an appearance."

"Well, if we're to cast stones," quipped the countess, "leave me out. It is written, 'let him who is without sin cast the first stone', and I've been a sinful girl for most of my life. Anyway, I can't throw as far as you lads." She smirked at her joke, which set the men to laughing.

The other car had driven over and the Challengers heard Marguerite's Biblical quip, which also made them laugh. Then, Challenger stiffened and brought up his new .465 H&H double rifle, bought for this trip. "Look alert, Darling!" he called to Finn. "Here the bloody lion comes now!"

Finn swung up her .375, which had a telescopic sight. She had trouble seeing the lion in the field of view as he charged, and she knew that she had only seconds to fire, or be under the lion's claws and terrible teeth. She wished desperately that she had brought the iron-sighted .400. Only she and George were in position to fire, given the location of the cars and trees. If she muffed this shot, George had better make the kill with his two shots, or the world was going to have to get by without one of both of the Challengers!

Finn only vaguely registered Margerite's scream, "Shoot, Finn! Now! He's almost to you!"

Aiming largely by instinct, Finn pulled the trigger and felt the recoil slam the rifle into her shoulder socket. As she fired, she heard her husband shoot. But, had they fired in time?

She fumbled for the bolt handle, trying to reload the chamber for another shot. As she ejected the spent cartridge case, she heard George's second shot and an angry roar. Then, Marguerite screamed again, and something huge and hard and powerful slammed into her. She felt herself falling, and her world went black...

xxx

Finn came to, propped up on a cushion in the hunting car. George was bathing her forehead with a cool cloth, and her friends all stood round, looking anxiously at her. She felt like Death warmed over, and on a small flame, at that.

"Am I alive?" she muttered. "I see Marguerite. Does that mean that I'm in Hell? The last I remember, she was making some remark about what a big sinner she was."

Marguerite laughed with relief and held Finn's hand, crying a little as she assured Finn that she was yet among the living. "Only the good die young, Finnykins. I'm still here, and so are you. I think: how do you feel?"

"I'm deciding. Genius, how do I feel? Is anything broken?" She reached out a hand to touch Challenger's face.

"We were just discussing that, Darling, when you woke up. As far as Marguerite and I can determine, nothing is actually broken, and we've checked you as carefully as we could. I daresay that you may be somewhat stiff, and I see some bruises forming. The lion was dead when he landed on you. My second shot went through the collarbone and broke the spine. Your shot and my first hit the heart. No idea why he didn't drop. Sometimes, animals live for a few seconds on pure adrenaline, I expect. Anyway, he hit the ground and flipped into you as you were reloading."

Finn recalled that. "Ohmigosh, is my rifle okay? I just bought that one last year, and I love the wood in the stock! If it's broken, I'll cry such a river that we won't need to look for water today!" She sat up, looking for the lovely Holland & Holland .375 Magnum.

"No worries," spoke Lord Roxton. "I knew that would be the first thing that you asked about, other than maybe George. So, I picked it up and closed the action. It's in the back of the car, resting comfortably on a blanket. I just blew off some dust. I don't think it got a scratch or a dent. Landed in that tall grass behind you, on soft ground. We took off your gun belt. It's all right, too, on the seat to your right. Your sun helmet is there, too. It has a dent in it, but probably saved your head when you hit the ground. That big cat slammed into you with some real force. Only your falling over backwards so fast kept the impact from breaking some bones, I fancy. Do you think you can stand and walk a few steps if George or I hold your arm? We'd better be certain that you function normally."

Finn nodded shakily. "You hold one arm, Johnny, and you get the other, Genius. I may fall. I do feel a little dizzy. Marguerite, don't look so worried. You're scaring me."

"I'm scaring YOU?!" shrilled the countess. "Finnykins, you have just scared me out of a year of my life, and you have the nerve to tell me that I'm scaring YOU?"

"What scared you?" asked Finn sitting up and letting the men help her off of the car seat, to stand shakily on her feet. "The lion was on this side of the cars. You weren't in any danger!"

Marguerite sniffed and wiped away a tear. "Well, I was in danger of losing my best female friend, ever. Doesn't that count?"

Finn glowed, and reached out to her. "Yes, Marguerite, that counts. Thank you for saying that. It means the world to me. It'll help me get all better soon. Lover; Johnny, lead me a little. I want to see if I can walk."

She staggered a bit, but was soon taking normal steps, except that she felt stiff and bruised. Like I look, probably, she speculated.

Finn sat on the car again as her husband had her follow his finger with her eyes, trying to see if she might be concussed or have optical nerve damage. She passed the test, although complaining of a sore spot on her head. There was a slight bump, but she seemed otherwise normal. The sun helmet had borne the brunt of the impact as she fell backward, and she had landed against a patch of bushes that had broken her fall. She had been very fortunate. The bushes had scratched her a little, but these marks would soon heal. The shrubs had not been wait-a-bit thornbush, with its vicious hooks.

But on examining the .375 rifle, she looked though the telescopic sight and saw that the reticle was tilted. She said something very unladylike, and Roxton looked to see what angered her.

"Sorry, Finn," he said. "I didn't check it as carefully as I should have. We were too busy looking after you. The iron sights are fine. We'll just take off the 'scope until you get home, and have it repaired there. The tube isn't bent; just the broken crosshairs. You still have your .275 Rigby if you need to shoot with a 'scope. Most of what we'll do can be handled by iron sights, anyway. Ranges out here seldom exceed 200 yards, and you see quite well. Probably no worries. The rifle must have landed on the scope, and it took the shock. Hitting those springy bushes certainly helped!"

Marguerite sniffed. "I should have known that the first thing that you two would discuss when she woke was guns! Finny, are you thirsty? We can brew tea while the skinners work on those lions, and we have sandwiches, for a civilized lunch. Francolin breast, in fact. Yummy!"

Finn smiled wanly and hugged her friend. In fact, she was hungry, and they got lunch underway as the skinners worked.

Many villagers had gathered, kept at bay by the gunbearers and by Blacklaws. The latter explained that the natives wanted lion claws for potent amulets, and the fat for a variety of imagined cures.

After photos had been taken, the lions were skinned and the villagers given the fat and some bones. The hides would need to be shown to the District Commissioner or the Chief Game Ranger, and were rolled away for better salting that night. Roxton had photographed the cleft paws.

Finally, the cars pulled away, heading for a new campsite that Blacklaws and Hamilton had agreed on. With any luck, their compasses would show them the place at about the same time. If not, whoever camped first would light the cook fires, and the smoke would lead the others to the site. With any luck, no lions would be inclined to march through camp that night, rummaging into tents!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Back in the old camp, most items were packed by one PM. They left out enough for lunch, and Susan kept an awning to keep the sun from her damaged eyes.

She sat talking with Veronica, as Ned Malone and the Hamiltons planned the remainder of the day. Hamilton showed Ned on the map where they would meet the other cars, and they agreed to shoot birds over a small waterhole en route. Ned liked big game hunting in moderation, and had the usual African trophies, many collected on last year's trip. But he especially liked wing shooting, and the birds here offered the best of that sport in the world.

Having eaten, the group got the remainder of their things packed onto the truck, and prepared to leave. But as the packing was being completed, Susan got out her binocular and practiced looking at items in the distance. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought that she was seeing better. And the redness in her vision now seemed more pink than red. She strained less to make out details.

Cheered, she got aboard the hunting car with an expression that had Diana Hamilton ask why she was smiling.

"Because I'm alive and I'm here, and I love what we're doing, and because I can see better. Can you imagine what it means to me to know that my eyes are healing?" She felt elated, eager to share her happiness.

Veronica squeezed her hand, and Susan beamed. Little did she realize that soon, she would need her eyes to save her life...

xxx

The expedition that had killed the lions steered toward a nearby river. At this time of year, much of it was dry, with only interspersed pools remaining. And those were full of hippos and crocodiles, with lions and other predators lurking in the long grass that approached the pools.

The hunters wanted to avoid that situation. But Blacklaws and Roxton promised that the sandy riverbed in other places could be mined for water, which they needed.

"All we need do is to dig, like elephants do," Roxton explained. "The water will seep up into the holes and we'll dip it out until we have enough. George, how reliable is that new charcoal filter that you brought? Will it clean and purify the water enough, or do we need to boil it?"

Challenger explained that an old sheet should be used to strain the muddy water, to get out the mud and other elements before it went through his filtraton device. "But the filter will clean it up to almost a pure and pretty state. We'll need to boil it, to be sure. But I feel all but certain that the filter alone will produce drinkable water."

"I hope so," remarked Marguerite Roxton. I don't want to see what it looked like to begin with! I say, have we enough water for tea? I'd like some while you stalwart lads gather more and purify it."

"Me, too," said Finn." I have a headache that tea may help. At least, it'll make me feel more human. Genius, I need two of those analgesic tablets that you make. I ache all over."

So it was that they parked near the riverbed and had tea as the African "boys" and Blacklaws drew water from the sand. Canned meat and whole wheat bread with Dijon-style mustard made a passable snack. And Finn felt alive again after she ate and drank the tea.

"The only problem," she told her mate and friends, "is that I wish that I'd die and stop aching. Lover, rub my back."

And she lay on a car seat as Challenger gently massaged her groaning muscles.

"Altogether, not too bad, Finnykins," commented Marguerite. "Most girls who get run into by lions fare much worse. A few days under George's skilled hands and you'll feel right as rain."

"Speaking of rain, we could do with a bit," mused Holly Blacklaws, looking at the hot blue sky.

None of them realized that later that afternoon, evil would find it way into their lives again. There was more at stake than rain, however pleasant that would be. Unless it poured too much, as was usually the case here, once the seasonal rains began...

xxx

Hamilton navigated their way to the new camp site and he, Diana, and the black staff soon had tents pitched and tea ready.

Susan munched a cucumber sandwich as the Malones finished eating and readied their shotguns and other gear for a foray against birds at a nearby waterhole.

"We'll see if Ned and Veronica can bump off some sand grouse and maybe a few gunea fowl and francolin partridge, then we'll slip up on that waterhole and fill all of our containers. The other party should have gotten water by now from the river just north of here. We should have plenty for baths and other needs. Well, Malones, shall we bash off and fill the larder?" Hamilton was looking forward to their foray, being fond of the big partridges in particular.

Diana offered to stay in camp with Susan, but the latter lady waved her off. "You go with Stuart and the Malones," she insisted. "The boys will take care of me, and I just want a nap in my tent before you return. Bring some of those francolins, and I'll be happy. I like those better than the pheasants that we shoot at home."

The Hamiltons reluctantly agreed, and the hunting party was off.

Susan took her binocular and studied a martial eagle wheeling high overhead, watching for small mammals and other potential victims. Then, feeling eyestrain, she retired to her tent for a nap.

xxx

Hiding the hunting car in trees near the waterhole, the Malones got out their shotguns and hid in bush round the water. Ned had his high-grade Winchester Model 12 in 12 gauge. He eyed the figured walnut stock and fore-arm as sunlight played along the richly burled wood and polished blue steel. The checkering pattern incorporated _fleur-de- lis_ motifs, and enchanted him whenever he handled the gun.

Veronica rolled her eyes at her husband's love for fine guns, but admitted to herself that she did feel similar pride as she loaded her Remington M-17 20 gauge, which was also a special-ordered version, with similar walnut and hand-cut engraving on the receiver sides. Veronica still hunted mainly with the bow and the snare, but had come to agree that a gun could be worth its weight in gold when needed. And a gun might as well look good... Even in the Treehouse, she sometimes took down her rifles and shotguns and walked out onto the balcony, running her hand along the smooth, burnished steel and walnut. She had come to realize that Roxton and Finn had something in their love for firearms. And it was nice to reach out with the gun and get dinner when it might otherwise prove elusive.

Veronica would never become as involved with guns as her close friend Mrs. Challenger or her near-brother, Lord Roxton, but she had indeed come to appreciate them more than she had once thought that she might. And it gave her and Ned something to discuss. Besides, giving Ned an occasional new gun made birthday and Christmas gift decisions easier.

She smiled as she thought of that, turned her 20 gauge over, and pumped a shell into the chamber. She heard Ned mutter that a flight of the fast sand grouse was inbound, and made ready to stand and swing the shotgun as they flashed past, en route to water.

On impulse, she reached over and touched Ned's arm. When he turned to her with a concerned expression, she whispered, "I love you, Ned Malone and I love doing this with you today. Thank you for being patient with me until I realized what a fool I'd been not to fall for you until I did."

Ned looked stunned, and then a grin as wide as an inverted rainbow formed on his face. He lowered his Winchester, pulled her over and kissed her, playing with her hair. "It's okay, baby," he whispered back. "You're blonde. Marguerite always says how that limits your ability to make quick, sound decisions."

He toyed with the rings that he had given her from the fabulous treasure of Xochilenque (See, "The Crystal Skull of Xochilenque") and held her hand as the couple ran eyes over each other and kissed as if they had discovered their love anew.

A crash of wings assailed their ears as the flock of birds flashed over and were gone. Stuart Hamilton tried for a stern expression and commented drily, "I say, Malone, you'll not shoot much game that way!"

Diana laughed and punched her man lightly on the shoulder as the Malones looked up, startled. They had completely forgotten the Hamiltons as they looked into one another's eyes.

Blushing, Ned said, "There'll be more birds soon. But a kiss from Veronica is good enough to miss a chance to win the Irish Sweepstakes. What are a few birds, more or less?"

"Oh, Stuart," exclaimed Diana, "Why don't you say things like that about me?"

Stuart tried to keep a poker face. "I would, Darling, but why state the obvious? Any man who looks at you knows that a night with you, let alone a lifetime, is worth more than the mines at Kimberly."

A furiously blushing Veronica said, "You guys really lay it on thick. Not that Diana and I mind. The heck of it is, Diana, they mean it. They really think of us that way!"

"Quite right," admitted Hamilton. "I say, ladies, here come more birds. We must bag a few, or people in camp will ask what Ned and I have been doing with you girls, off on our own in the bush."

Amused, Veronica said, "Quit blushing, Stuart. We're married. Your reputation is safe."

"Yes, that's the scandal of it," teased Hamilton. "Who ever heard of a Kenya chap having an affair with his _own_ wife? That'll raise eyebrows all over the colony!"

"Hush and shoot," admonished Ned. "We need to bring back some meat tonight." And he raised his shotgun and rose as more birds flew into range. But Veronica sat for a moment, savoring what Ned had said and the feel of his hands on her before she, too, rose to shoot. Maybe Marguerite is right about blondes, she mused. I could have had Neddy in my bed and in my heart for several years before I let him in. Sometimes, I can be so stupid. But I'm going to make it up to him for being tardy with my affection. When we make love tonight, I am going to wear out Mr. Malone. He isn't going to be able to stagger out of bed tomorrow, even if an elephant with ivory a hundred pounds a side wanders into camp. I may have started late, but I mean to make up for it. I'll show Mrs. George Challenger who really has the love of all time, the affair of the ages!

xxx

As she spoke, Mrs. Challenger had fallen asleep, head in her husband's lap. Blacklaws tried to find easy going for the safari car, lest any jolting wake Finn. But she seemed oblivious to the motion of the vehicle, exhausted emotionally and physically after her encounter with the charging lion.

The Roxtons spoke softly, Challenger sometimes joining quietly in their conversation. Holly Blacklaws found a light blanket in the back and passed it to George, who tucked it over Finn's superb legs, exposed in her relatively brief shorts. He stroked her hair and ears and she purred in her sleep. Challenger reflected how proud he was that his mate had come to trust him so completely that she slept like this, confident that he and the Roxtons would protect her. There had been a time when Finn had come awake at the slightest sound, and he had wondered if she would ever know real trust, let alone security, with anyone besides herself. Tears formed in his eyes, and he wiped them away, feeling self-conscious.

He bent over her now, holding her briefly to him, feeling enormous responsibility for her happiness. When he thought about it, the professor realized that he agreed with Finn that they indeed had the affair of all time. The odd couple, perhaps, but the truly happy one...

Marguerite Krux Roxton nudged her man and directed his attention to the Challengers, smiling smugly. She leaned next to John's ear and whispered, "I told you that couple liked one another."

Roxton smiled and joked, "Right you are, Darling. I know never to argue with you." He waggled his eyebrows, teasing her, and Marguerite fought to avoid laughing openly, lest she wake the sleeping huntress.

Suddenly Holly, who had been scanning the landscape through her binocular, tugged at Geoff's sleeve and pointed. To the east, a column of smoke rose sluggishly into the afternoon sky. Probably camp, about where their friends were to meet them. I hope so, she thought, and I hope we have enough water for baths. I think I have more dirt in my pores than there is in the collective minds of all of Parliament!

xxx

In camp, Joseph supervised the other Africans in readying bath water and dinner for the hunters and their clients. He glanced over at mem'Sahib Susan's tent. She was still in there, probably sleeping. This pleased Joseph, for he had come to respect mem'Sahib Susan, a nice girl of her kind, who was always polite and who made him feel appreciated as a valuable human being. This was not always the case with the bwanas and their women. Joseph was glad to have the Challengers and the Roxtons as clients. They were good people, and they tipped well. Mem'Sahib Marguerite could be caustic, but she was often funny, and she had a good heart, although she would deny it, had anyone accused her of kindness. And Mem'Sahib Bunduki and her man were also considerate, and funny, if one understood white peoples' humor. Joseph often didn't, but he understood very well that if the Bwanas and their Mem'Sahibs laughed, it was easier on the black staff.

In her tent, Susan Wilson tossed and twisted in her sleep. She was having a nightmare about a charging lion and a rifle that wouldn't fire. And Mrs. Challenger needed Susan to shoot that lion, about to reach them, its claws almost upon Finn's beautiful, frightened face!

The lion looked at Susan and said; now I will eat your face, too, white bitch! The effect was so shocking that Susan lurched upright, waking in terror.

She sat for a moment, heart racing. This is a dream, she told herself, staring into the late afternoon shadows at the door to her tent. But then she heard a snuffling sound and a low growl. And an awful odor reached her, like she was in the presence of a demon who bathed in a brimstone lake in Hell. Something was really there!

Trying to focus with her tired, abused eyes, Susan saw a big hyena staring at her, its powerful jaws agape, the tongue lolling obscenely as the heavy black muzzle snuffled again. Then, as if in the ultimate nightmare, the face seemed to dissolve and merge into the angry features of Karanja wa Kamau, the dead witch doctor!

Susan screamed.

Startled by the girl's voice, the hyena growled and poised itself to leap. But Susan, wide awake now, reached for the Remington M-17 shotgun by her bed, a 20 gauge like Veronica's. She had loaded it with slugs instead of birdshot, to use against predators in camp. Susan was mindful of the lion that had strolled into the Challengers' empty tent.

To be sure, she had her Smith & Wesson .38 at hand, but was afraid that unless she hit the brain, the revolver might not have enough power to stop a large carnivore intent on eating her.

The slide release on the Remington, which evolved slightly in 1937 to become the famous Ithaca M-37, is beside the trigger guard, easily operated by the forefinger of the shooter's hand. Susan tripped the release and frantically pumped a shell into the chamber, pulling the trigger as soon as the slide slammed closed.

BLAM! spoke the shotgun, and hurled a heavy 20 gauge slug into the chest of the leaping hyena. The impact of that slug was considerable. People in some US states hunt deer with such slugs, if the range is apt to be close.

The hyena yelped and landed at her feet. It tried to right itself, but Susan, again frantically pumping the slide, gave it another slug, this time in the head, the muzzle of the gun within two inches of the animal. The nose disappeared in a shower of blood, bits of skull being blown out the back of the beast's head as the cylindrical lead Brenneke slug exited.

The dead intruder slid down and off the side of her camp bed, and Susan heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the extent of the damage that her gun had done.

Her ears rang from the enclosed report of the shotgun, and she was unable to hear Joseph's urgent calls until he appeared in the doorway, panga in hand. With him were two other "boys", also armed with pangas and a spear.

Although horrified at what had just happened, Susan registered their presence, and yelped. She was wearing only brief blue panties and a lacy white demi bra, and was almost as frightened at being seen undressed by black men as she was at the appearance of the hyena. She pumped another shell into the gun before she caught on that the blacks had come to rescue her, not to harm.

"No, Mem'Sahib Susan! _Hapana piga_! No shoot!" howled Joseph, jumping backward, almost impaling himself on Juma's spearhead. He switched to English, which he spoke fairly well. "Mem'Sahib, we come to help. We heard you scream. What devil is this?"

"Well," said a still agitated Susan, "It sure as Hell isn't someone's bloody Corgi!"

Seeing the blank look on the headman's face, she remembered that he wasn't an authority on English pet dogs, and probably had no idea what a Corgi was. She explained what the feisty little canine looked like, and Joseph nodded.

"Mem'Sahib makes a joke, because this Corgi dog is small, and _Fisi_ is not?"_ Fisi_ was Swahili for "hyena."

Susan nodded, and then noticed that there was blood on her legs. Applying the safety on the little Remington shotgun, she set it aside and reached for a towel by the bed. Wetting it, she carefully washed off her legs, looking to be sure that none of the blood was her own. Thankfully, it had all come from the hyena.

Joseph had the dead animal dragged from her tent, respectfully averting his eyes from the half-dressed white girl. Susan shined her flashlight on it, and they noted the brands burned into the beast's hide by the witch doctor, and the cleft that had healed in the right forepaw.

These marks gave the blacks pause, and there were mutters of, _"juju_". But Joseph spoke sharply to the others, and they finished clearing the animal from the tent.

Then he said to Susan, "If Mem'Sahib will dress, I will have the personal boys clean the tent."

Susan nodded, and when the men had withdrawn, she slipped her sheet off and donned tan shorts and a pale blue short-sleeved shirt. An idea had come to her, and when she had buckled on her gun belt with the .38 and laced her desert boots, she got her Leica camera and arranged for the hyena to be laid out beyond camp and took its picture. In fact, she took a number of photos, some for Mrs. Challenger's next book, some for the District Commissioner, and some for her own photo album. She realized that she was living the stuff of high adventure, performing deeds that most girls her age in England could only hope to read about. She wanted to preserve this wonderful time for her memories.

Pictures taken, the hyena was dragged a decent distance from camp, downwind, where the stench of the carcass wouldn't disturb the expedition when the hunters returned. Susan doubted that anyone wanted the hide or the head for a mount, and the skull had been so badly damaged by the 20 gauge slug that a proper wall mount would be difficult or impossible.

What had she missed? she wondered. Oh, of course. "Joseph!" she called. When the headman came, she spoke softly to him.

"Will you do me a tremendous favor and not mention to anyone what I was wearing when the hyena came? That might be rather embarrassing."

Joseph nodded eagerly. "That would be best, Mem'Sahib. What people do not know about, they cannot speak of, and decorum may be best preserved!" And Bwana Blacklaws will not kick my posterior for seeing what I should not, he mused. He rejoiced that Mem'Sahib Susan was a wise and kind female. He had met some white women who would have made an issue of such a thing. Truly, if a hyena must sneak into camp in the middle of the afternoon without being seen, it was best that talk be limited to this, and not to what charms some white girl might have been displaying! The hyena, at least, could be blamed on magic. Was it not the animal of the slain witch doctor, whose curse must have lingered within the beast?

XXX

The safari pressed on toward camp when Finn stirred and asked, "Geoff, have we got any fresh milk, or can we stop and buy some at that village on the right? I totally crave hot chocolate tonight, big-time!"

"Need to get some, anyway," conceded the white hunter. "Darling," - this to Holly- "how much milk do we need, beyond that for the Challengers and others wanting cocoa?" He knew that Finn had brought dehydrated cocoa powder from England, the magic of her brilliant husband making it in dried form being a major advance in such things. Challenger was working on a formula that would require only hot water to be added to his mix, Finn having assured him that such things were available in the 21st Century. Instant cocoa!

Holly thought, then told her mate how much milk they required, and they swerved over toward the village. With luck, the blacks would have more than needed, and be happy to sell some. She also wanted to buy butter, if they made it here. And honey. And eggs, now that she thought about it.

The headman and three of his senior warriors came out to greet them, and they began the polite inquiries about crops and children, etc, that traditionally preceded business talk.

Finn, Holly, and Marguerite drifted over to talk to the women, who often told more of interest than the men. They soon knew what milk and eggs, etc. were for sale, and had concluded the deal as their men still talked. But the black women warned that at least one of the lions was still near. "The demon _simba_ killed and ate two women at a village ten miles distant," translated Marguerite. She spoke Swahili among her strange repertoire of languages, and soon had directions to this village.

By the time that Blacklaws had agreed on a price, the women had everything ready, and the safari was soon off.

Marguerite told her friends about the lions, and Holly said that they had better keep an eagle eye out for them." That village that was mentioned is barely five miles from camp. A short walk for a hungry lion!"

She shivered, and moved closer to her husband. Geoff put his arm around her as Challenger drove, and he and Roxton exchanged a thoughtful look...

XXX

The tired hunters drove into camp a bit after four PM. The others greeted them with relief, Hamilton twitting Blacklaws about being afraid that he might not have been able to find them.

"Oh, I can always find you, old boy. My concern was whether you could figure out where you were supposed be so that I could look for you!" Blacklaws had a quick wit, and was not an easy man to "rib." Even Marguerite had learned that Geoff was as drolly humorous as she herself was, and had grudgingly accorded the handsome South African hunter a healthy dose of respect. She smiled now at his response to his friend and partner's joust.

"No worries, Stuart," she said. "If Geoff had gotten lost, Roxton here once made me learn to use a compass. I could have found you, if you were where you belonged. As long as you can make tea in camp I will always locate you. I'll have an incentive. Morrighan discovers all, where tea is involved."

She turned to her bruised blonde friend. "I say, Finnykins, are you about to boil that milk and make cocoa? See if they'll make a pot of tea while they're at it."

Joseph came over and said, "Mem'Sahib, we saw you in the distance. The water is just boiling, and you will have a pot of tea in brief moments. Please to sit at table. Boys will bring tea and sugar."

He hoped that tea would leave the newcomers in a better mood when they heard about the hyena.

That wasn't long in coming. The breeze shifted, and Finn's nose flared as she sniffed the wind and turned to Roxton. She also slipped her rifle off of her shoulder, where she had been carrying it on its leather sling. "I smell _Fisi_, I think," she declared. "Or, some animal very like a hyena and it stinks." Finn was in some ways still almost feral. She had feared for her life for so long in New Amazonia and had become so attuned to the jungle on the Plateau that she still scented and heard things that most civilized people could not. John Roxton was very close to her in that way and his senses were also tuned to pick up on such subtle survival signals. Orion and Diana were a good team, as their Kenya friends had come to realize.

He also unslung his .416, which he was carrying. The gun bearers were just taking the other rifles from the car. Challenger smelled it now, too, and reached for the Colt .45 on his hip.

"It's cool, everyone," said Susan, coming towards them from the canvas ladies' room. She sometimes said things that only she or her heroine, Mrs. Challenger, would speak. Slang from a hundred years and more into the future...

"'Cool' my blithering arse," muttered Lady Roxton, who now also smelled what wafted on the air. "Susan, what IS that? Have you been learning to cook, and it didn't work out?"

Susan smiled impishly. "No, ma'am. But I doubt that you'd fancy eating that, anyway. Mrs. Challenger was right: it's dead hyena." And she told the tale of her adventurous afternoon as Joseph wrung his hands and hoped that he wouldn't be blamed for the big carnivore slipping unnoticed into camp.

"Susan was just telling us about the hyena and how she took ample photos of it for the D.C. and for Finn's book," commented Hamilton. "Diana and I just got home with the Malones not long before you lot rolled in. We were going to wash up and have tea before I had someone take that thing away or bury it. I thought you might want to have a look at it. It has brands in its hide, and the right forefoot is cut with Karanja's mark. A real _juju _hyena, witch doctor's special."

Roxton's interest was piqued. "Susan, you used that little Remington 20 gauge, with slugs? Finny, let's go see what damage it did."

"Feel free," snorted his mate. "_Essence du hyena_! Only my husband and his faithful Girl Guide hunting companion would want to smell that! Susan, you shot it. Go with that pair and see that they get back here before supper. Left to themselves, they'll want to dissect it and study the expanded slug, or something."

Challenger laughed. "I had perhaps better go, too, Marguerite. That carcass may have parasites on it that are new to Science."

Marguerite rolled her eyes in feigned exasperation at her companions' interests. Diana and Holly laughed and led her to the table, where the three awaited tea, and Holly and the countess caught up with Veronica on the Malones' day and what was for dinner. Ned came over, having already seen the dead hyena, and bragged how he had shot some running francolin partridges for the larder. "Pretty soon, you'll smell them cooking, and the odor will be a lot better than that deceased hyena. But I have to admit, Susan did pretty well by herself in killing that thing before it got its teeth into her."

Those who had gone to study the hyena were soon back, Blacklaws admonishing the African "boys" to bury it deeply, and to put heavy stones on the grave, lest its own kind dig it up to eat as they slept. Finn had talked Challenger out of studying the parasites, pleading that she was too tired to wait. "I feel and look black and blue. I've decided not to be run into by any more lions, man-eaters or not," she moaned.

Susan took her arm and gave her such a compassionate look that Finn felt a little better, and hugged Susan back. "Nice shooting, Susan," she told her secretary, who beamed at this praise from her employer, role model, and mentor.

After tea, the hunters bathed before dinner, the aroma of the roasting birds hurrying them from their ablutions. Finn had George massage her aching body first, but hunger soon overruled even that luxury, always a prized perk of her being married to a man who troubled himself to pamper her.

Dinner was as delicious as it smelled, and Blacklaws wryly told Joseph that he was off the hook for the hyena almost getting Susan.

All ate heartily, their appetites honed by hard hunting and the rugged outdoor life.

Blacklaws had had a spare tent pitched for Susan, it being impossible to get all the blood out of the fabric of hers. Finn told her to locate the new tent next to hers and the Genius's. "After what you went through and that lion being in our tent so recently, we may as well be ready to look after one another, Susan. And if you shoot that well and stay that cool, I want you near me."

Susan glowed under that praise from Mrs. Challenger, and Marguerite hid a smile. She wished that she had had a mentor who was as fond of her as Finn was of Susan when she had been Susan's age.

"Ma'am, should I really be that near your tent? I mean, you and the professor may want more privacy." Susan was still shy, and considerate.

"Not tonight," groaned Finn. "All the action that the Genius is getting from me is him rubbing my sore body until I pass out. I have aches in places where I didn't even know that I had places."

The others murmured sympathetic best wishes for her to feel better, and conversation shifted to the next day's hunting and the remaining man-eaters.

After a time, Marguerite noticed that Challenger seemed lost in reverie, although he was rubbing Finn's neck with one big hand as they awaited dessert. "Penny for your thoughts, George," she offered.

He looked startled. "Oh, I was just thinking. No point in looking for parasites on that dead hyena. After the body cooled, the fleas and whatnot mostly left their host, anyway."

Marguerite shook her head in amusement, and even the sore Finn grinned at her mate's dedication to Science. A marvelous cake came, with more tea, and everyone dug in happily.

But when it was time to sleep, Marguerite made Roxton get up and check that the door of their tent was tied firmly shut. "I have no intention of being eaten, considering what we're paying for this wonderful little trip," she complained.

Roxton checked the door, set his .416 beside the bed, and crawled in. "You know, Marguerite, that was really pretty cool shooting on Susan's part, with the hyena. I was quite impressed with what those 20 gauge slugs did to that varlet."

She muttered, "John, you're as bad about your obsessions as George Challenger is with his. Get your mind out of the shooting gallery for once, and make love to me. I need you to take my mind off of lions maybe eating me tonight."

Roxton laughed, and pulled her to him. He did a very thorough job of distracting her mind from lions, and she almost purred as she snuggled next to him before they slept. That lasted until she heard distant lions calling in the night an hour later. She turned on her flashlight and checked the door again, and looked to her rifle by her side of the bed.

Could be worse, she reflected. At least, it isn't bloody dinosaurs scaring me anymore..

xxx

Breakfast was a happier occasion. No lion tracks were found in camp, Ned claiming that Marguerite's aura or a premonition on the lions' part that she was there must have frightened them off.

"It's more likely that they're afraid that you'll feature them in some lurid book," Marguerite fired back.

"Ned's next book will probably be out before mine," groaned Finn. "I had a pretty miserable night. I don't think I can type for months. Seriously, I feel better than I did yesterday afternoon, but not much. The Genius was great. He rubbed me all over until I felt better, and I just took two more of his pain pills. But I may be stiff for several days."

"You got off as well as could be expected," Roxton observed. "I saw that big cat coming at you and was afraid that it would reach you before you and George could kill it. Good thing it died when it did, or your flawless complexion would have been disastrously rearranged."

"Speaking of lions," Marguerite resumed, "I had a pretty awful dream or vision or something that woke me about three AM. I must have been even more stressed by them than I'd realized. Anyway, I saw Finny and Susan trying to shoot a charging lion, but their rifles wouldn't fire. And the lion spoke. Don't suppose they really do that very often."

Susan suddenly went tense, dropped her fork in her eggs, and stared at Lady Roxton. "What exactly did the lion say? I had a quite similar bad dream just before I woke from it and found that hyena staring at me."

Marguerite looked carefully at Susan and replied, "Well, he was quite a rude lion. Probably wasn't brought up properly in a good home. But he said, 'I will eat your face, white bitch'. Now, don't tell me..."

"Yes," said Susan Wilson, turning pale. "That is just what the lion in my dream said! I remember thinking later that it might have been some premonition that the hyena was there, that my subconscious was talking to me. Hyenas often do snap off sleeping peoples' faces. How uncanny is that, us both having that same dream? Do you think this was Morrighan speaking to you or through you?"

Marguerite trembled slightly and took her husband's hand. "I don't know, Susan," she said quietly. "I don't usually know why I get such impressions or visions, or whatever they are. But for us to have the same dream..."

"Maybe you two can recall what was in the background," suggested Veronica. "That might tell us where the lions are, so we can be extra wary if we see a place like that." Having lived among the Zanga Indians in Brazil and seen how their shamans sometimes had similar visions, she was less inclined to dismiss such things as trivial coincidence or superstition.

Blacklaws and Hamilton said that both women were probably just upset by the recent doings with the late Karanja wa Kamau and the lion that had been in camp.

"Still," said Hamilton, "we'll be careful to avoid situations where lions might have a go at us. We need to move from this area, anyway. We'll shoot a nice bushbuck or two at a place I know, and then head over to visit Angus Hardy. Does that suit everyone?"

"Daddy would love to have us," reminded Diana Hardy Hamilton. "He invited us when we were all there after we left the D.C.'s place after that native attack."

"Suits us," said Ned after looking at Veronica. "We can spend a few days with Angus, then we really need to head for Mombasa if we're going to have any time to visit with the rest of you in England, like we planned."

The Roxtons and the Challengers agreed, and the group planned to hunt bushbuck that day and the next, if they proved elusive. Then, they were off to see Diana's father and hunt leopard, buffalo, and perhaps a few antelope on his large farm.

"We'll try to steer clear of lions, if we can," promised John Roxton, to his spouse's relief. But Lady Roxton exchanged an uneasy glance with Susan. Both had an unpleasant feeling that their mutual dreams might foretell an impending event.

Challenger motioned for the personal boy to bring more coffee. "I feel sure that this is just due to stress," he said. "There is no scientific reason why you should have seen anything likely to happen in real life."

Finn sat as the coffee made its rounds, and apologized for not getting it for her husband. It was a point of pride for her to serve him, for which she was often teased by her friends. "I'm just too danged stiff and sore," she admitted.

"Quite all right, Darling," Challenger assured her, patting her shoulder. "You must take it easy for a few days. I'll take care of you, for a change."

"I'll help, too," promised Susan. "In fact, if we stay in camp and look after one another, maybe we can avoid leaping lions that speak."

Everyone smiled, but like Susan, they would soon find that fate would take its course, however careful the girls planned to be...

xxx-

Two days later, they had collected several bushbuck and a big warthog from the forested areas near their camp. Ned had knocked over a record book-class Grant's gazelle with a shot from his .270 Winchester, and all had enjoyed shooting spurfowl, francolins, and the speedy sand grouse. Had they had enough shotgun shells and more time, they could have spent days on that sporty bird alone. But none of this group of hunters was the sort who shot excessively. Beyond what they could use for the camp larder, they gave some fowl to nearby natives, who were happy to get the protein.

Ned gave his Winchester Model 12 a good workout, but explained that Americans had lost the once-prolific passenger pigeon, and that the bison had been put on the endangered list due to overhunting by market gunners. Some duck species were now quite limited in the number allowed on hunting licenses, again due to pressure from market gunners, before commercial hunting had been outlawed in the United States.

"We've shot all the birds that we can eat before they go bad in this heat," he declared, and Blacklaws agreed.

"Tomorrow, lets break camp and saunter over to Stuart's father-in-law's place. We can sleep in sumptuous luxury, in indoor rooms, with real plumbing. Even the countess will be satisfied with the bathtubs there, eh, Marguerite?"

That lady gave him a cool look and said that she certainly deserved better bathing facilities than this camp provided. "But the bill of fare seems rather good," she grudgingly admitted. "Partridge and venison tonight, with fresh vegetables. I can do no better than that at home. But I've been craving fish. Can't we get out our rods and tackle and cast a few hooks on the way to Angus's farm?"

"Indeed, we can," said Diana. "George, don't you and Finny fish? We'll pass a river of considerable size, and some pools there have plenty of Nile perch and tiger fish, also tilapia, which are sort of like a big bream. Very tasty, and the cooks do very well by them. You'd never guess it, but Kidogo can make quite good sauces for fish. Just use caution: we'll need some of us to stand ready with rifles in case of crocodiles or hippo making an issue of our presence."

"Not to worry," her husband hastened to add. "We'll find a place where neither of those is common. Just have to be careful. Remember, this is Africa. Everything bites. Including tiger fish! They have jaws like a set of reinforced razor blades. Apart from that, Ned, and orange-tinted fins, they look rather like your American coastal bass, what you Yanks call striped bass."

"Genus _Roccus_," nodded Challenger, as if anyone present other than him knew much about the genera of fish. "Quite tasty. Finn and I have eaten them in New York and in Richmond while in the U.S. on business. American housewives buy quite a lot of my houseware inventions. And Finn's books now have American editions." He looked quite pleased at sharing this happy news.

"I'm feeling better," said his spouse. "Maybe I can cast okay in a day or so. May help work out some of the soreness." She moaned and rubbed her own arm. Challenger saw, had her turn her back to him, and began massaging her tense shoulders. He knew how Finn loved to fish, as did he. He saw the look in her eyes as the angling was being discussed, and rejoiced to see her take that pleasure in it. Back in Britain, she had looked forward to catching tiger fish, and they had the right tackle for it. He wondered how one of his salmon rods would fare. At home, the Roxtons and the Challengers made salmon fishing a seasonal excursion, and each couple had access to trout and pike on their own waters.

Dinner was as scrumptious as Marguerite had hoped, and the couples sat around after, finishing off the wine, the Hamiltons and the Blacklaws duo telling thrilling stories of the African bush.

Later, Finn, George, Susan, and the Malones walked as far out of camp as was safe, rifles and binoculars at hand. They studied the night sky, with its infinite profusion of stars.

"Remember what Johnny said out here last year, about how people are somewhere between the turtles and the stars on the scale of existence?" Finn felt small when comparing herself to God's greater works.

"Doesn't matter," quipped Ned Malone. "You, Susan, and Veronica are close to the angels, as creatures go. Don't I tell you that you're angelic, Honey? Life with you is truly heavenly." He leaned over and kissed his blushing mate.

"Ned has a point at that," declared Challenger, pulling Finn in for a kiss and a hug. She squeezed back, and then saw the forlorn look on Susan's face as the moon rose. She reached for her shy secretary and included her in the hug.

"I thank Heaven for Susan almost nightly," she proclaimed. "I don't know what I'd do without her, right, Genius?"

Veronica thought that was sweet of Finn, Susan having no man of her own on this romantic night. She decided to tell her so in the morning.

They watched the stars a bit longer, identifying constellations, difficult to separate in the tremendous stellar display in this dark place. Then, the two couples and the beautiful blonde companion and helper of one retreated to camp, as rustles in the darkness reminded them that this was not a safe haven. Ned flicked on his flashlight, reflecting the eyes of a passing serval, which stared briefly, then leaped back into the shadows. It was probably hunting mice in the long grass.

In their tents, lights out, each of the whites shared their thoughts, Susan dreaming of a man like Roxton or Blacklaws to someday sweep her off her feet, and take her to enchanted places. Like a home of their own! She wondered briefly whether she should have competed with Holly for Blacklaws when the handsome hunter had been among their rescuers from slavers the previous year. She had thought about it, but didn't know him, whereas Holly did.

And Holly was bolder, the daughter of a rich man, pampered, used to getting what she wanted. Her mind made up, she had shamelessly flaunted her superb body, making certain that Geoff couldn't miss her "accidental" exposure of shapely legs...once she had donned clothes! Blacklaws had already had more than an eyeful of the slaves before the girls had been freed of their chains and provided clothing from the women who had avoided capture.

Susan smiled. In her way, Holly was as skilled a huntress as her man was a hunter. And Geoff, she had to admit, had largely tamed his wife, making her think more of others and to be less hedonistic and self centered. Holly was now actually fun to know, less condescending to Susan than she had been when Susan was a teller at Holly's father's bank.

Susan heard the Challengers stir in the next tent, and Finn's soft, sensual, feminine laughter as George did something to her that she liked. Susan loved the Challengers, who had come to mean so much to her. Could she have pursued George as Finn wanted, had Finn fallen to the black rebels in that battle that now seemed long ago?

Maybe. He might accept her, and the two would look after one another; Susan knew that. And she would do her best to help the Genius raise his two young children. But did Susan really want Challenger's children as her own? Would she have the true passion in marriage that the Challengers felt for one another? Probably not, she decided. Susan wanted a different man, however much she admired George Challenger. She was profoundly grateful that Finn had survived, and that the couple were safe in one anothers' arms.

Who, then? She envisioned a man with Challenger's brilliance, Roxton's and Ned's droll humor, Blacklaws's swagger and daring, with Stuart Hamilton's quiet competence and adoration of Diana. And who was smitten with her, Susan! A face not unlike a younger John Roxton formed in her mind, and she pulled the pillow into her arms, and cuddled with it, wondering whether he existed, before she slept.

XXX

It seemed no time at all before the personal boy was tapping at the entrance to her abode, murmuring, "Mem'Sahib Susan, _mimi lette chai." _(I bring tea.)

Susan Wilson sighed, rolled out of bed, and donned her warm green robe, like Mrs. Challenger's. Tonight, she decided, I'm going to think a little more about that fantasy man. They can't blame a girl for dreaming...

xxx

Late the next day, nearing the river, they paused at a dukka to replenish supplies. Fresh fruit, canned goods, whiskey, gasoline (petrol) and other essentials...

Susan saw several boxes of an Austrian brand of 7mm rifle ammunition on a shelf behind the Indian proprietor. He saw the direction of her gaze, and said, "Oh, pretty blonde lady! For you alone, today, this cartridges is being on sale! For merely 50 rupees, all seven of these boxes can be yours. This is much less than I would have to charge for other famous brands, had I even got them in stock, which alas, I have not."

Susan reflected. She was certainly better paid by the Challengers than she had been at the bank, but she had bought most of her personal items for this safari. She was not exactly rife with money. At home, even a new pistol or a good dress and accessories were major expenses for her. Her Rigby rifle was a gift from Roxton, who had realized that her income did not extend to expensive custom firearms. And she had fired much of her supply of .275 (7mm) ammo during the siege at the Musgrave home and fortress. And more had been fired at game. Even if she was able to find more genuine Kynoch ammunition so far from Nairobi, she could not afford to buy much of that proprietary make. The Indian's price was tempting...

Roxton saw what was happening, and made the point that she would be better off with British, German, or American cartridges. "This fellow has probably had those boxes sitting on his shelves here in equatorial heat and seasonal humidity for years. Some of the caps (primers, to US readers) may have gone bad, and the powder may not be fresh enough to perform right."

"Yes, your lordship, but he does have them here, and nothing else in 7mm," Susan pointed out. "And to tell the truth, the price is important to me." She flushed, embarrassed.

"Look here, Susan," said the earl. "if this heathen merchant wants to sell that ammo, and will take 40 rupees for it, I'll buy it for you. No, I insist, to make my point. If all of those rounds that you shoot perform well, you can pay me back, if you insist. But if even one fails, the seven boxes are on me, so that I can gloat about being right."

"Let him do it," said Marguerite. "He hasn't gotten to really gloat about anything since I told him that I'd marry him." She smiled impudently at her lord and master, who rolled his eyes in feigned exasperation.

Susan laughed, "Well, Lord Roxton, if you,insist. But if it works, I do mean to repay you."

The shopkeeper did accept the 40 rupees that the earl offered, and the cartridges changed hands. But in time, they would learn that Roxton had been right, and this was to nearly cost Finn and Susan their lives!

A week later, having spent as much time as they wanted in fishing on the way, the group arrived at Angus Hardy's vast farm and estate. They had indeed gotten a taste of tiger fish, tilapia, Nile perch, and other fish, including catfish, to Ned's surprise. They didn't get as large here as they did in Brazil, but he rigged some baits similar to what he used at home, and they were soon eating fried catfish, or barbels.

The others preferred broiled fish of other species, it being the case that the cook made a fine tomato-based sauce and one with lemons and cream to accompany the white flesh of the river's bounty.

Finn and Ned had made a point of stalking crocodiles, Finn wanting to kill an especially troublesome one that was taking native women from a nearby village as they washed clothes. Not only did she feel sorry for the African women; she wanted to photograph and mount the dead croc for her books and her den. A .375 H&H Magnum bullet into its primeval brain fulfilled both hers and the black womens' wishes.

The croc was not outlandishly long, just over 12 feet. But it was a worthwhile trophy for having been a known man-eater. That was what would stir the interest of Finn's readers and those who attended her slide shows and lectures.

She explained this to Angus Hardy at dinner on the night of their arrival, and he agreed that people tend to respond to a frisson of fear. "They like to shiver a bit. I suppose that's why ghost or witch stories are so popular," he concluded, looking for some reason at the Countess of Avebury.

Marguerite flushed and declared, "Well, I can't help it if I may be a witch! I mean, what if you were reincarnated, as, say, Caligula? How would you feel? At least, being Morrighan isn't that depraved!"

"Who was Caligula?" asked Veronica, who was largely unschooled in European history. On being told, she nodded and admitted that even Marguerite had never been that debauched.

"Close, but no cigar," laughed Ned Malone.

"Ned, hush," said his mate. "You'll hurt Marguerite's feelings. She does have feelings, and has even allowed them to surface in recent years." Then, she joined Ned in laughing.

Even Marguerite joined in the amusement, although she made an obscene gesture towards Ned when Angus looked the other way.

"Well, look," said Roxton, "what shall we do tomorrow? Diana mentioned that you were having lion trouble again, Angus. Cattle killers. Want us to have a go at some?"

Susan and Marguerite felt a shock go through their veins, and they looked uneasily at one another.

Hardy noticed the look that they gave each other and inquired whether he had said anything improper. They told him then about the shared dream, and how both felt that it was more than coincidence.

The group agreed that Marguerite, Finn, and Susan would go with Hardy and the Malones the next day and sightsee, perhaps shoot a buck or two for meat. "We'll let Stuart, John, George, and Geoff shoot the lions. If they knock over a few, the others will stay away from my cattle for a time," concluded Hardy.

"I think I'd feel better if I accompany Finn and Susan," demurred Challenger. So, it was agreed that he would trade places with Hardy, so as not to be constantly worried about Finn. Diana offered to guide that party, being intimately familiar with her father's land.

Little did any of them realize that the Professor's concern for his wife and her secretary was well founded, and that Lady Roxton would soon join them in facing grave peril...

xxx

The next morning dawned with no sign of rain or high winds: a beautiful day by any standard. Breakfast talk was peppered with references to the hunts to come, Hardy being optimistic that at least several lions would be shot. Lions were then classed as vermin, so no one had to take any on his or her license quota.

And the guests were thrilled to learn that Hardy's reservoirs included two that had been stocked with trout!

"They are Rainbow trout from the United States," he explained, "and a small river flows through my property. This elevation is high enough that the water is cool enough to sustain trout. I've caught them to four pounds. Very lovely fish, with bright pink stripes along their sides. They fight very well on a light line. Diana can show you suitable baits, but I like to use flies. Very sporting, and they are fine eating!"

So, an angling adventure was planned for the next day. Now, they made final arrangements for the lion hunt and the ladies' excursion.

"I want to shoot a few birds, " declared Finn. "Otherwise, lets' just look at the scenery and have a picnic lunch. I want to take some photos and birdwatch."

"Suits me," agreed Lady Roxton. "But someone remind me: why is it that we have to have men with us? I think women can cope very well on our own, especially with Little Miss Sure Shot along." She smirked at Finn, who rolled her eyes at this provocation.

"Just cool it, Marguerite," Finn said. "Chalk it up to us needing not to have George worry about me. Or, the reverse. Same for the Malones. If you don't want the Genius along, he and I will go off somewhere on our own. Susan, you can come with us, or go with the Countess."

"I'll go with you, ma'am, unless you and the professor want privacy. I don't want to intrude, if that might be the case." Susan was uncomfortable about possibly upsetting Marguerite, but wanted to show her loyalty to the Challengers.

"Oh, never mind, Finny. I just wanted to go on record as saying that we don't NEED a man. But if it's your Genius, I don't really mind. I know that you two are joined as tightly as Siamese twins! George, I'm sorry. I haven't had my second cup of coffee, so I decided to be obnoxious." Marguerite now regretted her jibe, which had been taken more seriously than intended.

"Well, that's something that you've had a lot of practice at," snapped Veronica. Then, a thought occurred to her, and she smiled. "Anyway, how do you know how closely the Challengers are joined? Have you been peeping through the keyhole in their door?"

Roxton, irritated, cleared his throat and said, "Actually, I've kept her too busy for keyhole peeping. I think she just means how close George and Finny are emotionally. Now, can we please see a map and decide who's going to be where today, and when we need to head back here?"

Everyone sighed with relief at the change of subject, but after breakfast, Challenger took Marguerite aside and offered to take Finn and Susan off on their own if she really resented his presence.

She hugged him and apologized. "Really, George, I want you with us. I admire you ALMOST as much as Finny does. I was just feeling bitchy and wanted to get a rise out of the blondes and John. I knew how they'd react. Now, I'm sorry that I said that. It upset the Hamiltons and Angus. I think I'll go apologize to them and to the Blacklaws duo. Sometimes, my mouth gets ahead of my brain this early in the morning."

"Marguerite, it's past nine," pointed out Ned, who had walked up.

"See? My point exactly," said Marguerite. "Barely past nine!"

Veronica arched an eyebrow, stepped behind her brunette friend on the way to her room, and whacked Marguerite on the butt in passing.

"You need a spanking, Countess," she smirked. She took Ned by the hand and they left as Marguerite stood speechless, trying to decide whether to laugh or to get mad.

Finn stood by Challenger and said, "Veronica is right, Marguerite. Maybe if you're lucky, I'll let the Genius spank you. He does that to a girl really well," She winked lewdly at her man, who flushed with embarrassment at this risqué talk.

Veronica heard as she entered the hall to her room. "Not that kind of spanking, Finny!"

Roxton walked over, took his wife's arm, and steered her toward their own room. "If anyone spanks Marguerite, I'll be the man doing that. Now, lets' get ready. The morning is getting away from us."

Marguerite took his arm in hers, snuggled dramatically against him as they went, and said, "Thank you, John. Rescued yet again by my White Knight." She leaned up and kissed him, instantly easing his pique. He playfully yanked her hair, and they chased one another to their room, laughing like teens filled with new love.

The Hamiltons and Hardy looked and shook their heads. "You have some interesting friends there, Diana," joked her father.

She laughed. "They're really not as strange as they seem, Daddy. Actually, they're the most fun of any group that Stuart and I have known. Compared to some clients they're an endless delight."

Within the hour, the two groups separated, one driving off to hunt lions, the other to shoot a few grouse for the pot and to birdwatch and see the countryside. Challenger hoped to discover new species of small mammals, so planned to set a few traps to attract shrews and the like.

He and Finn were setting traps some distance from the others when it occurred to Susan that her rifle needed to be loaded, in case her gunbearer hadn't yet done that. He was supposed to see that the magazines of all bolt-action rifles within his care were loaded, but the chambers left empty, before leaving camp. (Double-barrelled rifles were left unloaded until the hunters took them on leaving the car. This was for safety's sake, given their design.)

"Oh," said Marguerite. "Don't bother with that. I saw Jerogi loading the rifles when we left Angus's home. I had him load my .275 as well as yours."

"Yes, ma'am," said Susan, although something niggled at her mind about this. Then, she concentrated on their card game. "I'd like two cards, please, Countess."

Marguerite looked up. "Susan, I've told you that you may call me Marguerite. Believe me, I've been called far worse, and it is my real name." She smiled to ease the class-consciousness of the younger girl.

Susan smiled back, if a little shyly. "Yes, ma'am. I'll try to remember that, Lady Roxton. It's just that I was only a bank clerk until Mrs. Challenger hired me, and I'm still a bit unsure of myself in such exalted company."

Ned Malone snorted. "That's why we don't have nobility in America, Susan. Saves us from having to decide how far to bow down to them."

"Ned, quit," spoke his wife. "Hey, girls, hold our cards. I have to use the ladies' room. Neddy, come with me. Bring a rifle so that I don't have to. " She set her cards face-down on the truck seat and waited as Ned got a rifle.

"Vee, try those bushes over to the right with the big tree just above them." Marguerite had used the same facilities a few minutes before. "I highly recommend the place. Saw no snakes whatever. I dislike snakes in the loo, although I never realized that until Roxton dragged me out here on safari."

Diana arched an eyebrow as she prepared lunch. "Didn't that remote South American jungle have snakes, Marguerite? I distinctly recall you mentioning some, including a Bushmaster that struck John right on his boot heel."

"Well, that was on the trail," Marguerite retorted. "Not in the ladies' room."

"I shot a few in the gents' room," said Ned. "One was a Fer-de-Lance." He gave Marguerite a triumphant look.

"Doesn't count," responded Marguerite. "Little boys are always playing with toads and other nasty things, anyway." She smirked.

"Come on, Ned," said Veronica. "I need to go, right now, and you're not going to win an argument with Marguerite. I'm female, myself, and I hardly ever win a 'discussion' with her. Besides, it takes more time than it's worth to debate her."

The Malones walked off, leaving Marguerite smug in her victory.

Diana smiled, pretending not to notice the episode. She saw pretty readily why Susan was still shy around Lady Roxton...

Jerogi, the only African whom they'd brought along, stood to pass a jar of homemade Dijon-style mustard to Diana. He saw something moving in the grass about 125 yards distant, headed toward them. He looked so intently at it that Diana followed his gaze.

"Eeeh, Mem'Sahib Diana," he hissed. "Simba! I see the tail waving above the grass!"

"Oh, Lord, not now," she said. _"Pesi, pesi, Jerogi, toa bunduki kwa Mem'Sahibs!"_

The other girls knew what that meant, having learned a good deal of Swahili over the past two years: Lion! Get the rifles for the ladies! Quickly!

"_N'dio,_ Mem'Sahib," stuttered Jerogi. He ran around to the rifle rack and passed a Rigby .350 Magnum to Diana, and their .275's to Marguerite and Susan. The latter rifles weren't in the upright rack, being in their sturdy leather and wood cases, lest they be scuffed. Finn's and Roxton's obsession with taking meticulous care of their firearms had spread to the others in the safari party.

Diana worked the Mauser bolt action on her .350 (a cartridge similar in power to the US .35 Whelen for American readers, although not interchangeable) as the other ladies struggled to open the latches on the rifle cases, withdraw the rifles, and cycle the bolts to load the chambers.

All were soon ready, and the lion hadn't left cover. The tail had stopped moving, but they saw the black tip twitching, as if the agitated lion was thinking of his next action. Marguerite looked anxiously toward the Challengers and saw that they had just finished setting traps and were enroute back to the cars.

She stood and waved, catching Finn's eye as her husband rambled on about African shrew species known to Science. Finn put her hand up to shade her eyes from the sun and looked where Marguerite was frantically pointing. She could see nothing, but tugged at George's sleeve, and slipped her own .275 off of her shoulder. Challenger had not brought a rifle, and was alarmed to see that something was transpiring. He looked at Marguerite, then to where she was gesturing, and they saw Diana motioning them urgently toward the cars.

"Looks as if this is about something more than lunch being ready, Finn," he observed dryly.

"I think you're right, Genius," she teased. "What was your first clue?" And the Challengers broke into a run.

The lion now walked into the open, some 80 yards away, and filled his lungs with air. A full roar followed, shaking the grass and human courage. The huge lion walked a few stiff steps in the direction of the car, then paused to emit another frightening roar. This was the real roar of a big, wild lion. It is not something to hear when unarmed or alone in the African bush, and Susan Wilson felt her intestines quiver. She knew that her face had just gone as white as bread. And not the whole wheat bread that Veronica insisted they bake, either!

A second later, Simba broke into a charge, chasing the Challengers as they ran for the car. Finn saw that they would probaby not reach the dubious safety of the vehicles, and told her mate to keep running. She cocked her Rigby and went to one knee, tracking the oncoming lion in her sights.

But George refused to leave his wife, and drew his Colt .45 Single-Action Army revolver, thumbing back the hammer. Finn saw from the corner of her eye and screamed at him to run. Then, she settled her face onto the rifle stock and pressed the trigger as the big cat ended one leap, so that the next would bring it into line with the speeding bullet.

CLICK! she heard, instead of the BANG that she expected. Baffled and terrified, she cycled the bolt, feeding another cartridge into the chamber. CLICK! again!

Susan and Marguerite were having the same experience, and it was now evident that the lion was charging them, not the Challengers.

George put a 250 grain .45 bullet into its ribs as it sped past a few feet away, and Finn dropped her rifle, thinking that it had a broken firing pin. She drew her Smith & Wesson .38, aware that only a very lucky shot with it could kill the lion before it mangled them.

Diana ran around the car and into the lion's path. She was the professional hunter's wife, and felt responsible to her clients. And she had shot lions since her early teens. She was now 19, and a cool hand. But this shooting of a lion in full charge was stressful. There are few more dreadful things to face than a lion coming fast when it means business!

She led it in her sights, hearing Susan's rifle click again, as if she hadn't fed a cartridge into the breech. How very odd, a small part of her mind registered. She had just seen both women load their rifles!

BLAM! The .350 kicked into her shoulder and the lion flipped end-over-end as the bullet took it in the chest. SLICK-CLICK-TICK! She cycled the bolt, reloading. She heard another shot from the bush where the Malones had gone, and the lion flopped down, a shoulder broken. It struggled to its feet as Diana sent another bullet into its already blown-apart heart. It dragged itself forward a few feet, and then its head dropped in death.

As soon as the lion was determined to be dead, everyone breathed a deep sigh of relief. Challenger reloaded his .45 as Marguerite and Susan explained that their rifles had refused to fire. "Honestly, Mrs. Challenger, I tried to shoot," insisted Susan, backed instantly by Lady Roxton.

A thought crossed Finn's mind and she ejected the round in her rifle's chamber. "I thought so," she muttered darkly. "This is one of those damned old cartridges that you bought in that dukka, Susan! Check the ammo that malfunctioned in your rifles!"

Sure enough, all of the misbehaving rifles had been loaded with the "bargain" ammunition. So had Veronica's .275.

That lady and her husband examined the dead lion and walked over and heard about the ammunition issue. Ned said that he was carrying his .30/06, built on a M-1903 Springfield action by Griffin & Howe, a custom gunsmith in New York. His Winchester ammunition and Diana's .350 Kynoch brand had performed normally, saving lives.

On examination, Finn saw that the primers on the 7mm/.275 cartridges had all been struck normally by the firing pins. But the ammunition had not fired!

They set the bad ammo aside, in a hole that Challenger hastily dug with a shovel from the truck. "If this has some hang-fires in it," he explained, "a shot may still go off. Delayed detonation..."

Finn took a round of Kynoch .275 Rigby ammunition from her hunting vest, loaded her rifle, and fired the shot into a dead tree some 60 yards off. Her rifle fired normally, and bark flew from the trunk.

"Ladies," she said, "I think we can conclude that this junk ammo nearly got us killed. But how the hell did it get into my rifle, or Marguerite's, or Vee's?"

Jerogi hung his head in shame and admitted that the other gun bearers had gone to visit friends at the Hardy compound, and he had loaded all the clients' rifles. Susan had mentioned within his hearing that she wanted to fire all of the "new" ammunition before using any more of her valued Kynoch brand of expensive cartridges. So, thinking that he was doing her a favor, he had loaded all of the .275's with the old Austrian brand!

Finn got into the ammunition from her hunting bag and passed around enough to load all of the .275's with good British cartridges.

"Now, can we have lunch?" she demanded. "That was hungry work!"

As Diana and Susan finished laying out lunch, the others walked over and examined the lion. It had evidently been in a fight with another lion, with a number of bites and serious scratch marks apparent on it.

"Probably came off second best in a dominance fight for control of the pride," remarked Challenger. "It was likely in a foul mood, looking for trouble, or certainly not avoiding it." He had sadness about him as he stroked the fur and examined a particularly bad gash in the dead cat's hide.

After lunch, they began skinning the large animal, helped by the men who had set out to hunt the great felines. They had had no luck, the pride that they sought having vacated the area. Seeing the injuries on the dead lion, they conjectured that a fight had left the pride with a new leader, and he might have withdrawn to lick his own wounds. If so, it might be several days before the lions reappeared. But all present agreed that if game was scarce, they would turn again to killing cattle. Might anyway, as it was easier than stalking wild animals.

Challenger and Finn insisted on examining the bullet wounds. The .45 revolver bullet had entered the liver, creating a probably lethal wound, in time. Ned's .30/06 bullet had gotten through the left shoulder, breaking it and seriously injuring the charging lion. The lead core had separated from its metal jacket, but only after it had done deadly work. One of Diana's .350 bullets had ranged through the heart, damaging other organs. It was remarkable that the lion had not dropped from her first shot. The patented Rigby bullets had stayed together, with no separation of jacket and core, and had expanded perfectly.

Roxton shrugged when Veronica mentioned how the lion had required two shots through the heart and other vital organs.. "Some animals take more killing than you'd believe," he said, and reminded them about the difficulty in stopping warlike natives in India when they were charged with narcotics and religious fervor. "I sometimes saw men in the war take far more punishment from bullets than you'd believe before they dropped. But that's the exception, of course. Usually, a well placed bullet does its job quickly, on lion or man."

All told Diana that the hide with the attached head and mane should be hers, and she accepted. "I'll sew it a bit here and there, but those scars from the other lion will make it an interesting conversation piece. Stuart, shall we hang this in the den or in the living room?"

"Side wall of the living room, I think," replied the hunter. "By Jove, Darling, I am proud of you! You certainly saved the day! I should have been with the clients, or Geoff should." He hugged her to his side, and her young cheeks glowed with pride and love.

Back at the Hardy home, Roxton looked carefully at the cartridges that had failed to fire. He got a set of pliers and pulled the bullets from the brass cases and poured out the gunpowder. Looking down into the brass cases with a flashlight, he realized that the primers (the British still called them "caps" after their old percussion predecessors) had no filling! There was no way that the rifles' firing pins could detonate the primers!

"I've half a mind to go by that dukka and thrash the _wallah_ who sold Susan this stuff," declared an angry Geoffrey Blacklaws.

Roxton pointed out that this was a factory defect, a flaw in the manufacturing process. "The Indian running the store isn't to blame."

Blacklaws scowled nonetheless. "He probably had received complaints of prior sales not firing, and failed to tell poor Susan that he was selling her something that might cost her life, or the lives of others."

"I want some of those bad cartridges," said Susan. "They'll make keen mementos of the trip and of what nearly happened to us. And they'll remind me to never buy questionable ammunition again!"

"See?' chirped Lady Roxton. "This episode proves that even blondes can learn from experience."

XXX

The group went out that afternoon and shot birds: spur-fowl and some ducks that came into a large waterhole. Ned especially enjoyed this. He had rather shoot flying birds with a shotgun than kill an elephant.

There was a scare as a rhino charged one of the cars, but they evaded it without having to kill the prehistoric beast. All of the safari clients save for Susan had shot rhinos the previous year and had limited space to display a mount of such a large animal. Hardy said that he had as soon leave them alone unless they grew too numerous or became a serious hazard to people.

Dinner was wonderful, with much animated talk. But Marguerite noticed that Finn was less chipper than usual, and she and Challenger gave one another uneasy glances. This was unusual, and Marguerite wondered what might be the matter.

After most of their company had gone to bed, Marguerite got up to use the restroom down the hall from her room with John. She thought she heard sniffling in the living room, so after completing her visit in the bath, she went in to see what might be the matter. What she'd heard sounded very like a woman in emotional distress.

She was surprised to find the normally cheerful Finn sitting huddled on a couch, her robe wrapped around, her, wiping away a tear.

"Want company, or would you prefer to be alone, Finny?" she asked softly.

Finn shrugged as if she didn't care what Marguerite did. But the brunette aristocrat knew her friend well. The two teased one another frequently, but were in fact very close, and had been since they had shared a slave cell while in the custody of the late Avery Burton. Burton was "late" because they had escaped, and Finn had put a bullet into his head...

"What's the matter, Darling?" asked Marguerite. "You're usually Mrs. Sunshine. Have you and George had an argument?"

Finn smiled wanly. "George says that we don't have arguments," she replied. "Those are for ordinary people, not us. But we sometimes have 'intense discussions.' And we had one. It was my fault, I guess. I lit into him for not running back to the car instead of standing there playing hero with his trusty Colt .45!"

Marguerite was puzzled. "I should think that you'd love him all the more for that. He's an honorable man, and a brave one. What was he supposed to do: run off and leave his wife to a raging lion?"

Finn shook her blonde tresses irritably. "Marguerite, if that lion had killed both of us, our children would be orphans. I grew up as one, and I don't recommend the experience. I'm just a pretty good writer who likes to hunt and have fun. George is a giant of science. What he can do for all mankind has still to be determined. And he needs to teach the kids how to be as great as he is. Besides, he makes a lot more money than I do. He'd be able to give them a better life than I could if I had become a widow today. But he insists that he couldn't leave me!"

"Finny, he loves you very much. Remember when you two used to argue over which of you the sun rose on? He meant it when he told you how much you mean to him, and you still do. In fact, going by what he says about you when he and I talk alone, he loves you more than ever. He probably just didn't think about Arthur and Caroline. All he saw was that he might somehow be able to save you, and you are the light of his life."

Finn looked obstinate. "Damn it, Marguerite! He's a father now! He has to think of that. And the hell of it is, I'm thrilled that he was ready to risk his life for mine. So, I'm stuck between yelling at him for taking chances and being very fulfilled and grateful that he did as he did. Where does that leave me? Us?"

"As one of the most devoted couples of all time, I should think, just as you so eagerly tell everyone that you are." Marguerite understood Finn's fear for her children, being a mother herself. And that feeling transcended anything that she had ever anticipated that it would. But she would never berate John Roxton for saving her.

"Well, I can't sulk out here all night," muttered Finn. "I may as well go apologize and ask him to try to understand my screwball female reaction."

Marguerite was amused. "No, Finnykins. Don't ever apologize. It's not the way that we women do things. Just go tell George that you've thought it over, and that you'll forgive him."

In spite of her mood, Finn smiled back. "Funny. But he's probably going to treat me like a teenybopper who's had a tantrum. Which I sort of did, I guess. Wish me luck. I may need it."

Marguerite saw light down the hall as Challenger opened their door and came into the living room, looking for Finn. He found her with her friend, also his closest female friend, other than his mate.

"I see that my actions today are being discussed," he said stiffly. "Darling, I simply could not leave you to die. Marguerite, I'm sure that you've heard an earful by now. Ask John what he would have done in my place. There is a male code that proclaims that we can't leave our women to such a fate and still respect ourselves. I could do nothing but what I did. And besides, I might have been able to get a bullet into that cat's brain as he lunged for us."

Marguerite stood and hugged her friend. "Oh, George! I'm just glad that neither of you was harmed. Look: will you promise me - and Finny - that you'll take a rifle with you when you leave the car, from now on? That will solve most such situations."

"Yes, I have decided to do that very thing," he agreed. "Finn, please come to bed. We can continue this discussion in the morning if you like. But I cannot say that I would do anything but what I did if this sort of thing happens again. You are too precious to leave in harm's way, and a man worthy of the name cannot abandon his woman at such a moment. Please try to understand that."

Marguerite said, "I'll leave you two to work this out. But Nicole, try to understand what George is saying. Men have silly codes by which they live, and he cannot deviate from this one and be himself. It's just something with which men -the good ones - are cursed."

"Thanks too much, Marguerite," said Challenger. "Ask John how silly our codes are."

The countess smiled. "I know, George. He'd have done just as you did. And I love him all the more for it. Look, I'd better get back, or he'll think a python has slithered into the house and gotten me."

She patted Challenger on the back and was gone.

Finn stood, looked at her husband, and told him how sorry she was for attacking his behavior, knowing that what he had done was out of love for her. "But you could have been killed, Genius! How would I live without you? And the kids need a father."

"Well, they have one," he countered, "thanks to God and to Diana's skill with a rifle. We were very fortunate today. I'm sorry that I displeased you, Nicole, but I acted instinctively, and I am not ashamed that I did. On the contrary..."

"Never mind, George, I'll get over it," she said, snuggling into his arms. "Did I remember to thank you for doing that, or did I just yell at you for it?"

"I believe that you just admonished me, in no uncertain terms," he acknowledged.

"Then, take me to bed and let's talk about this in a more civilized way, and I'll tell you how much I admire you for your courage and your love. You're the only man who's ever risked his life for me, repeatedly. I just feel all warm inside when I think of that, or of you at all. I'm sorry that I blew up. I just freaked, thinking of what could have happened to you. To us!"

He nodded, lifted her in his arms like a child, kissed her, and took her to their room, her head cradled on his right shoulder.

As he set her down by the bed, Finn rubbed noses with George and said, "You're so my hero, Genius! I don't deserve you, but I'm glad that I have you."

"I'm glad that we have one another," he answered.

And so they went to bed, Finn cuddling next to her hero as she turned out the light. Exhausted, she soon fell asleep, still sore from her earlier bruising by the dead lion that had flipped into her.

Challenger lay awake, berating himself for not having thought of the children. Finn was right about that. But he could not have acted any other way and been the man that he was. He decided to offer a prayer of thanks for having been spared, and that his mate had been. It had been an exciting day, and one that he was glad to have survived.

Chapter FIFTEEN

At breakfast, Roxton approached Challenger and his wife and reminded them that predators chase animals that flee. "So, had George run, the lion would have probably been motivated to pursue him, and he'd have been in greater danger than if he'd stood fast. In any event, all ended well."

Finn shrugged. "Yeah, I thought of that after I cooled off and came to my senses. The Genius will be carrying a rifle from now on, and I've agreed to personally check my ammunition. No more gun bearers are going to fool with my guns. Period!"

"What did Blacklaws decide about firing Jerogi?" asked Ned Malone. "He messed up, as did the other gun bearers. But he meant well, and he's usually done a great job." Veronica nodded at this.

"I heard that," said Blacklaws, turning a corner en route to the dining room. "If it's all right with the Challengers and the Roxtons, I'll just give him a piece of my mind and let him stay. Diana and Holly have been after me to grant him mercy, and I suppose that he's learned his lesson."

"Just tell him from me that if he endangers my wife again, I'll have more than a word with him," muttered John Roxton.

The group .was soon eating a fine breakfast, and everyone agreed to let the incident pass, except to speak bluntly to the Indian storekeeper the next time either white hunter passed his _dukka._ Marguerite looked carefully at the Challengers, and was relieved to see Finn buttering George's bread, as usual. She nudged Roxton, who smiled. Apparently, the couple who proclaimed themselves to have history's greatest love had reconciled.

Veronica saw what Marguerite had done and, misunderstanding, thought that she was again razzing Finn for her frequent nurturing of George. She gave Marguerite a stern look, picked up a slice of toast and buttered it for Ned.

Poor Ned missed the exchange between the women, and just looked pleased when Veronica presented him with the toast. "Oh, thanks, Honey. Say, will you pass the honey, please, Holly?"

Roxton, amused, coughed to hide his laughter, earning him an elbow in the ribs from his mate.

Susan raised a hand. "If it's all right with everyone, may I shoot a leopard today? I'd rather like one for my room at home."

That broke the tension and they were soon discussing where might be the best place to find leopards on the Hardy estate.

"Are you using your .275, or the .303?" asked Angus, after they'd established a good place for Stuart to take Susan to shoot a spotted cat.

"The Rigby, I expect," answered the young blonde. "It has a telescopic sight, which will let me see better as dusk comes. Gathers more light as shadows fall at twilight. Those cats can be hard to see up a tree, anyway, so Lord Roxton and the others say."

Hardy nodded. "Very true. Well, look here, Susan: I heard about that bad cartridge fiasco. I have a .275 among my rifles, and I order sealed cases of the ammunition direct from Rigby's, once every year or two. 500 rounds in the case. I'll let you have a couple of boxes. I heard you tell Finn that you were down to 15 cartridges of the good Kynoch brand. In fact, I have another order due in at any time. Why don't I give you twelve boxes, 60 rounds? You won't be shooting a lot more before you leave, I expect, and you can use the .303 for some animals."

"Oh, Mr. Hardy! I couldn't possibly accept such a generous offer!" Susan blushed.

"I'll accept for you, Susan," said Diana. "I'm his daughter, and I bum ammunition from him quite often. And I'm your hunter's wife, and I almost got you killed yesterday, not supervising that wog gun bearer properly. Please accept the ammunition, to make amends. We have plenty. In fact, Stuart and I have enough to give you two more boxes of five each. We'll be happy to, won't we, Stuart?" She turned to her mate, who nodded, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Now that that's settled," said the countess, "what have you stalwarts got planned to amuse me while Susie hunts the mighty leopard?"

So it came to pass that Marguerite would fish, then birdwatch, John with her. Blacklaws would attend to them, and his wife would see to the Challengers, who wanted to set more traps and shoot some birds.

They also wanted to watch some non-game birds, Finn being especially enchanted by the brilliant hues of the bee eaters and other colorful species. Challenger wanted to see if he could spy on some ospreys and eagles. No one had any idea that the guests would encounter yet another lion!

After breakfast, Finn mentioned to Susan that that she could not productively hunt leopard until late afternoon, when one might come to a bait that Hamilton had hung the previous evening, a young waterbuck. Not the best meat for humans, it wouldn't be refused by a hungry leopard.

"Bit of a nasty thing to do to old Chui, though," observed Angus Hardy. "You chaps could at least have shot a more succulent antelope. Given the cat a decent last meal." He smiled at Diana's "Oh, Daddy! Really!" But she was amused, too.

Finn continued, asking if Susan would like to join her and George on a birdwatching expedition and picnic lunch. This Susan eagerly accepted, once assured that she wasn't imposing.

Holly was also enthusiastic. "You and I can talk, Susan, while the Challengers set out their traps. I won't be lonely, and you can ask me about hunting leopards or whatever girl talk you like. I want to pump you for more information on London fashions, too. I want to sew some new dresses soon, and maybe Marguerite and Finn will help you to design some."

Susan blushed. "Holly, they do the designing. I just sometimes make small suggestions. And wear the clothes that they insist on giving me. I'm enormously fortunate to have such talented women designing for me and giving me things that I couldn't begin to afford on my own. Not that Mrs. Challenger doesn't pay me rather better than your father did when I was at the bank. And I have other perks, too. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I made as much as most tellers do, I expect. But you know how my life has blossomed since we were rescued from those awful slavers last year."

Holly smiled. "Mine has blossomed a bit, too, remember. Geoff has turned out to be even more exciting a husband than I'd hoped. I'll tell you a little of my life now when we have time today. It'll make you want to snag a man for yourself." She grinned at Susan's flush.

"Give me some pointers, then," said Susan. "I saw you acting like a hussy trying to net Geoff after he'd already gotten a very full view of us naked before the other girls found us something to wear. But, how do you keep him happy, I mean? And have you learned to cook?"

Holly promised to tell all, and they got the car loaded. Susan took her cameras and ample film. With luck, she would get more photos for Mrs. Challenger's next book.

Holly got behind the wheel, Susan beside her, and the Challengers in the next seat. A personal boy named Kimani got in back, with lunch and the other items needed. Finn made very sure to load her own rifle. If fate decreed that she had to shoot another dangerous animal, it would be without the added handicap of bad cartridges!

They drove off into the bush, which began not really too far from the Hardy home. The parties waved as they separated, and Holly drove the Challengers and Susan to a pleasant place some 12 miles from the big house. Here, the bush had not been cleared, and the land was primitive, as it had been before the white man had come with his guns and his plows.

There was a large natural spring about 200 yards from the car, and it attracted all manner of animals, in addition to birds. All admired the view, and sat studying it through binoculars. Holly noticed that they all used Carl Zeiss brand optics, both binoculars and some telescopic rifle 'scopes, and drily commented that Zeiss should pay them to appear in their ads.

Ever the loyal wife, Finn quipped, "With the Genius in the ad pictures, those should sell a lot of ground glass! World's most famous scientist of all time!"

An amused, equally loyal Susan said, "Mrs. Challenger, you'd sell a lot of binoculars, too, if men read those ads. You're not only really pretty; you're famous in your own right. When we were in the D.C.'s place fighting off those savages, you got a lot of attention."

Challenger chuckled and tugged playfully at Finn's golden hair. "Darling, I rather fancy that Galileo is the most famous man in history, as far as optics are concerned. Of course, his telescopes are very few in number, and consigned to museums, and didn't work nearly so well as the one that we have at home. Indeed, our binoculars show us more of the heavens than did many telescopes in his day. Besides, he met a bad end. I hope to turn out better!"

They laughed, and Holly and Susan made a fire on safe, rocky ground, to brew tea. Both women took rifles, having learned not to venture far from the car unarmed. The small fire was only 60 feet from the vehicle, but they were wary, for this was lion country, and sometimes, rhino or buffalo turned up to drink at that spring!

In addition to his basic hunting binocular, Challenger had brought a larger one for nature study and astronomy. It was a 15X60 glass, magnifying 15 times, with big 60mm objective lenses to drink in light and be more effective in darkness. He had it now, with his 8X30B hunting model, to look at birds and other wildlife. He aimed it at the grass approaching the pond and swept the ground between the fountain and the car.

Finn took her hunting glass, like her mate's 8X30, and began scanning a copse of trees in the near distance. Something moved in one tree, and she locked her gaze onto it. It shifted again, and she told her man where to look. He used his smaller glass, the field of view in the large one too narrow for scanning at average distances. Having located what she meant, he changed binoculars, now sure just where to look. The bigger binocular revealed an alert green snake that was working its way along a branch, then up to another branch.

"Is that a green mamba?" asked Finn.

"Either that or a boomslang, and I'm not going over to be sure which," he replied.

Finn laughed. "Finally, my Genius has learned snake safety." She had often had to dissuade him from catching dangerous reptiles over the years that they had known one another, and having children with him had made her even more afraid that he would exceed his ration of luck with serpents.

He smiled at her jab and got out his 12- gauge Purdey shotgun and assembled it. He put a few shells loaded with the British equivalent of American No. 6 shot in a jacket pocket, and a few SSG buckshot loads.

Holly saw and called, "Professor, that's a wise precaution. There are more snakes about than you'd guess. We rarely see them, but their tracks are certainly about. Diana's dad shot an eight-foot cobra last month, not far from the stables."

"Oh, look," gushed Susan, pointing to the sky.

They all looked, and saw a large tawny eagle glide into a landing on a tree just 75 yards off. It had a rodent or hare in its talons, and killed the animal now and began to feed on it as they watched; enchanted at this opportunity to see one of Africa's largest avian predators consume its lunch.

Susan got out a camera fitted with a telescopic lens and tried for a photo. She shrugged, telling the others that she was unsure whether she'd gotten one. So, she and Challenger walked closer, being careful not to press the eagle too closely, lest it fly away.

When they returned to the car, Finn and Holly had the tea ready, with cupcakes and honey from the house. They snacked, speculating whether Susan had taken any useable photos.

They had just put away the tea things when they heard a low, menacing growl from the long grass behind the car.

"Ehhh, Mem'Sahib!" said Kimani. "_Simba!"_ Lion...and from the sound of it, a big one.

"Kimani, I think that that you'd better pass around the rifles," said Challenger. "I'll have my .465, please, and Finn probably wants her .375 H&H."

Once they were armed, Holly, not bothering to hide a tense look, said, "Let's see if we can get into the car and start it. I think we'd better try to go elsewhere before something unpleasant happens!"

As she spoke, a huge lion, sporting a magnificent mane, stalked from the grass, roared, and stared balefully at the explorers.

Holly said in a shaky voice, "Look out for that one. I'm going to start the car, unless one of you lot want it as a trophy. It would be a terrific one, but we're in the car. Try not to shoot unless you have to. The game laws, you know. If you want it, we'll get out and walk the requisite distance before firing. But it may fade back into that grass."

No one wanted to shoot the lion, so she started the car and drove forward, dodging a warthog hole that might have broken an axle.

When they were well clear, and the grouchy lion had gone down to drink at the spring, Finn asked why the lions were so numerous and nasty. "Johnny said that they're usually not as grumpy, and not as common as they seem to be."

"I think I can answer that, Darling," said Challenger. "In most years, the rains are less, and the game animals fewer. This year, the game is everywhere, making hunting easy and more male cubs have survived to adulthood. When they get too big, Father Lion runs the lads out of the pride, and they wander, looking for a pride that they can take over. A lone lion is often an unhappy, aggressive one. Or, if he succeeds in displacing a rival, the one who lost his pride of lionesses and cubs is apt to have a grim disposition. Especially if his wounds are still fresh, he'll likely be in a nasty temper."

"Professor, you're right," concurred Holly Blacklaws. "At least, that's what Geoff says, and he knows lions really well."

Finn grinned. "I bet he doesn't know other forms of protoplasm as well as the Genius does." She leaned over and kissed an amused Challenger.

Holly smiled. "I daresay not, beyond a reasonable degree. But you can bet your money that he knows most African animals, reptiles, and whatnot. You hired a good man. Geoff is in high demand as a hunter. I have to work at it to make him take time off for me. That's why I insisted on coming on this _shaur_i. {Affair} I didn't get married to spend a lot of time alone."

"He's a good man," agreed Challenger. "And we're happy to have you along. Finn, that lion has gone. Let's go set out some traps for small animals near that spring. In the morning, I feel sure that we'll find some, if other animals don't eat them first."

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid that that's what will happen to them," said Holly. "But go ahead. Susan and I will enjoy some girl talk."

Challenger got his traps and a .375 Magnum. Finn took her .450/.400 double rifle, and they trekked off to set traps. Some were "live traps" that confined the animal within. Perhaps the metal cage on these would prevent an owl, monitor lizard, or other beast from consuming the scientific specimens.

XXX

The Roxtons, meanwhile, enjoyed fishing in a large impoundment with a stream running though it, helping to keep the water cool enough for trout. The Malones wandered off to the left, doing the same.

They soon had several trout, one of four pounds, all browns. (_Salmo trutta_.) Blacklaws and Diana Hamilton, who had belatedly decided to accompany them, said that rainbow trout (_Onchorynchus mykiss, _formerly _Salmo gardineri_) were fewer, but worth trying for. And careful casting with flies did net two rainbows, of over a pound each.

These, they released, to hopefully grow to trophy size and produce more of their kind. But everyone admired their beauty, especially the gaudy red line down the sides of the fish.

There was a moment of some stress, when Marguerite and Diana wandered off to explore a bit on their own. Roxton and Blacklaws were in such deep conversation about fish and big lions that John only half heard Marguerite say that she was going a little further along the bank. He supposed that she'd take her rifle, and not go far, in any event. And Diana was with her, and knew the land, where she had grown up.

Once away from the men, Diana showed Marguerite where she could watch brightly -colored bee eaters and kingfisher birds, and they thrilled to see an osprey swoop down and take a fish. Following a kingfisher in her binocular, Marguerite exclaimed how beautiful all thisl was.

"I feel happy and serene. This is even more fun than our land at Avebury," she declared. "I hope that Finn and George are seeing something this fine!"

"They are, if a bit different," promised Diana. "Holly is a good guide, and I told her where to find similar birds, with more raptors, which George especially wanted to see. They'll have fun before Stuart takes Susan out for leopard this afternoon."

Her husband was helping Angus Hardy to install some roof repairs where hail had damaged the red tile roof. He would complete that in ample time to eat before taking the Wilson lass out for her big adventure.

"Marguerite, may I ask you something?",ventured Diana.

"As long as it's not for me to divorce John so you can have him, to vote Labour, or for either of my children," quipped the countess. "Go easy on asking for any of my diamonds, too." She smiled, and Diana sighed in relief.

"Marguerite, you are funny, but this is a serious question. We really haven't had much chance on this safari to talk privately, and I was wondering...How have you fared since we were kidnapped by those awful wogs last year? I've had nightmares over it."

Marguerite thought, went over to a large flat rock, and checked around it to be certain that it harbored no serpents or scorpions, and sat, patting the place next to her for her friend to join her.

When Diana had done so, Marguerite began. "Diana, I can't say that I haven't woken in a cold sweat on occasion. John is the best thing in the world at times like that. Oh, at one point, I actually consulted a psychiatrist, but he did me less good than my husband, and wanted to pry into parts of my past where only John and Finn have been, and even they haven't gotten into some of what I want to hide of my nefarious background. I wasn't always a good girl, and being a bad one is best confined to what women do in bed. Not that I'd always done that with the proper man, either, but I have him now, and he is the greatest psychotherapist to have lived, I think. Not that Finn doesn't say the same about George. Both Finn and I married above ourselves, and our spouses have made it possible for us to have greater self respect and content than either of us ever expected."

Diana persisted. "But do you ever feel empty and yet full of dread? Worry that it will happen again, and you won't escape? If it hadn't been for you getting out of your chains and knifing those two Arabs, we'd be living in slavery in Amarrah now. I'd never have married Stuart. And by the way, he is the most remarkably sensitive man! He must be much like Professor Challenger and Lord Roxton. But while he hears me out and tells me that it wasn't my fault, and that all I need do is to continue being the perfect wife to keep him happy, I can't sleep sometimes, and I get daytime scares. I can't look at an Arab or an Indian without wanting to run on one hand, or to shoot him on the other. Do you experience that?"

"Yes," said the countess flatly. "And judging from my dealings with most, shooting one is a public service. But the law doesn't agree, so I have to restrain myself. Otherwise, if I could have, the head of the Sultan of Amarrah would hang in our den with the other animal heads. Well, not really. I suppose that I'd soon throw it out, and some of my nightmares with it. Remember, I served his father for nearly a year, in his harem. What that did to me defies my ability to express in words. But John tells me that my eyes sometimes tell him all that he needs to know about that time of my life. And I try to do for him all that I was made to do for other men, but liking doing it for him. That way, I can find something positive to keep from that ordeal.

"You just have to move on, and then lock in your mind that that business is past, and it did provide you with a husband for whom other women would give their left arm. Well, probably not, as men like women to have both arms. But they'd give a lot! By the way, are you concerned about Stuart taking Susan leopard hunting today? Susan Wilson is a beautiful girl, and Stuart can't have failed to notice. She's sweet, but I don't know that I'd want John alone with her. She has that look that men like, where they want to take her in their arms and shelter her. It'll catch her a husband one day, if she half tries."

Diana was amused. "I'm more worried about Susan's boss. There is some definite chemistry between Finn and Stuart. I sense it. I confronted him about it one night, but he says that some attraction is normal, even for married people, and that he won't act on it. When he's tempted, he thinks first of me and how I'd be hurt, then he thinks of Professor Challenger, who is a rather good shot!"

The women laughed, and Diana admitted that Susan might be a threat, but was one that she was prepared to tolerate, trusting in Stuart to do the right thing by her.

"Have I helped, about the frights, I mean? An American poet named Walt Whitman once wrote 'Let the grass grow'. Time solves many of our worries and fears." Marguerite took Diana's hands in hers and gave her a look of such empathy that Diana began to cry and was soon in Marguerite's arms, both women sobbing as they sought to comfort one another, remembering the mutual horrors of their recent past.

Neither was aware of the big lion stalking them.

It had only a scruffy mane, abraded by living largely on an area of the estate where thornbush was prevalent. And its hide was torn, with suppurating sores in places where it had been ripped by the teeth and claws of a larger rival that had defended its territory against this would-be usurper.

Having lost the battle, this lion had lain low in the bush, avoiding hyenas and other animals that might have taken advantage of his weakened condition. Mobile now, he was still sick, and was quite hungry. In the last two days, he had eaten only a springhare and a dik-dik that had ventured too close as he lay in wait. The two women looked like easy meat, and he was creeping carefully nearer them. Low to the ground, moving only when their attention was elsewhere, he had closed to within 50 yards when Ned Malone and John Roxton saw him.

The men had gone in search of Diana and Marguerite, wanting to show them the fish that Ned had caught, a rainbow trout of over three pounds. Roxton was also uneasy about Marguerite having been gone for so long, and had noticed that she'd left her rifle propped against a large rock near where he had been angling.

Muttering an oath, he picked up her rifle and his own .416 and went in search of her, Ned in tow with the impressive trout.

They crested a rise, and Roxton immediately saw the lion. He dropped Marguerite's rifle and unslung his own, shouting a warning.

The two women looked behind them, saw the lion as he prepared to charge, and screamed. Diana grabbed her Mauser 9.3X62mm, but was afraid that the lion would be on them before she could rotate the safety to the "Off" position. Marguerite fumbled for her revolver, knowing that the .38 could not stop a charge, and the sound of it probably wouldn't cause the lion to veer from its course.

It roared as it came, and the force of its anger and desperation terrified the women. Marguerite saw her life flash before her. She shouted, as she so often had before, "Roxton! DO something!"

And Roxton did do something: he swung the .416 Rigby, following the running lion and pulled the trigger just in time for the bullet to strike the lion through both shoulders, folding it in its tracks. Ned's .30/06 put a bullet into its neck from 10 yards off, and Diana fired her 9.3mm into the side of the head, walking around to be sure that the big cat would stay dead.

This all happened within seconds, all of the shooters being fine shots used to killing dangerous game during a charge. But all present were struck by how close a call the women had had.

Roxton walked back a few paces and picked up Marguerite's rifle and handed it to her, a look of disapproval on his tight face.

"Darling, I think you might find that this works better if you actually have it with you when you need it."

She nodded, shaken, in no mood to argue. She checked the chamber, saw that it was loaded, and reapplied the safety. "Thank you, John. My mind must have been elsewhere. I thought it was safe to wander off just a bit. Diana had her rifle."

"Speaking of which," Roxton said with some feeling, "Mrs. Hamilton, we hired your husband to be our hunter. If you need to fill in for him at times, I'd appreciate it if you'd pay more attention to keeping my wife safe." His color was pale and he was clearly angry.

Marguerite walked over and touched his arm. "John, please. This was half my fault and one of us should have been looking each way. But we were two women talking about a very serious issue, and we dropped our guard. It won't happen again, and Diana's father has been very generous about letting us shoot on his land at no charge, and has entertained us royally. He's a fine man, as is Stuart. Please, let's all just learn our lesson from what almost happened here and go on with our lives." She looked at him with such pleading eyes that he shook his head and agreed to let it pass.

"But Diana, if Marguerite had been killed, where do you think you and your husband would stand? His career would be over, and he might have been charged with negligence in protecting a client. Don't get sloppy again, and I suggest that Stuart refrain from letting his wife act as a white hunter when she lacks the qualifications and the license for it." Roxton was still angry, and horrified that his wife had almost been killed.

Marguerite glared at Malone. "Well, Ned? What do you want, not that I'm not grateful for your help."

"Don't get all over me," protested poor Ned. "I just came to show you this fish." He lifted the lovely trout on its stringer. "If I hadn't wanted to do that and shown John that you left your rifle behind, you'd be a mangled heap of death about now, I suspect. But just pardon me for being here." And he stalked off, anger evident in his stride.

Veronica calmed Ned, and Marguerite went over and apologized a few minutes later. The men resumed fishing, keeping a keen eye out for crocodiles or other dangerous animals, although Diana said that this large pond was free of them.

"Of course, one may migrate over from the river," she admitted. "It always pays to keep crocs in mind anywhere near water in Kenya."

Marguerite took Veronica aside and explained why she and Diana had been distracted. Veronica had also been captured by the slavers of the previous year, and her heart went out to Diana. She confessed to similar nightmares and general stress, although Ned had helped greatly in making her feel loved and secure.

Veronica and Marguerite talked with the men and they grudgingly forgave Diana for the lion incident. Roxton promised to let it lie if Stuart took them out thereafter, rather than Diana. "I'm not without sympathy or understanding, Diana," he allowed. "But if you are likely to be distracted by this difficulty, we need someone able to cope. And Stuart will be held responsible by the police and the game department if there's a tragedy. For his sake, we'd better get back to having him with us."

On that note, they gathered up their things and the few fish they wanted, and returned to the Hardy home. A familiar vehicle was parked out front and when they entered the back door, Angus Hardy greeted them with the news that the District Commissioner and his wife were there. The other hunting and exploration party had also returned.

Sir John Musgrave shook hands all around and said, "I have news for you that may give some of you a bit of closure over that slavery episode. I see that all of you ladies who were victims of that scheme are here, with your spouses. Miss Wilson, of course, is unmarried, but I daresay that she was as traumitized as anyone. I am delighted to learn that Prof. and Mrs. Challenger have been so supportive of her. Amanda and I have often thought of that disgraceful incident, and we know that you women have all had some rough times over what happened."

"What sort of 'closure' do you mean, Sir John?" asked Veronica Malone. "We were discussing what we went through as we fished just now. I have some problems over that, as do Marguerite and Diana." She stood between the other two women and they all held hands, an action that seemed to come spontaneously to them.

Finn Challenger saw, and took Susan's hand, to that girl's relief. Even now, Susan was not beyond what had happened to her, and what had almost happened. Alone in the world other than having a few distant relatives with whom she was not in touch, she was very grateful for the way in which she had been accepted and cared for by the Challengers.

Holly and Geoff Blacklaws stood together, also holding hands. They had weathered the event better than any of the others, Holly's strong self image and gratitude at marrying Geoff in the aftermath of the problem having sustained her better than most women would have borne it. Truth be told, Holly was also a little vain, and the fact that she had been singled out for kidnapping by slavers had rather appealed to her vanity, once she had been rescued. But even she got an occasional case of the shivers when she thought about the matter.

Everyone looked expectantly at Musgrave, and he cleared his throat and opened an envelope with an official government seal on it.

"Well," he spoke, "appeals in this case have finally run out, and I can now tell you what action will be taken with regard to the chief instigator of that plot.

"Khalid and the few survivors of his gang have all been sentenced to hang in Nairobi's central jail, in one week's time. You are each invited, spouses included, to witness the event, should you wish. I hope that this execution will end at least some of the emotional horrors that you must carry after that dreadful experience. Amanda and I will be available to answer any questions, and will be present for the execution, as will the Governor.

"By the way, he continued, "the sentence was not only for kidnapping and enslaving you women and the African girls whom they held, and for the murder of that boy in your camp. We later found the bodies of two girls whom they left bound on the trail. One of his men who spoke to gain relative clemency admitted that they had been left there to deceive us, had we gone that way in pursuit. They left the slaves supposing that they'd go one way, which they'd have told us. Instead, once out of sight of those unfortunate women, they changed course, and those girls were killed and eaten by hyenas after suffering for hours from thirst. So their deaths were laid at Khalid's door, as well as the rest of the charges. He and his thugs richly deserve the fate decreed for them. Of course, his cousin was summarily dealt with when we freed the ladies. I would like to thank Angus and the rest of you, including Lady Roxton and Mrs. Challenger for your assistance. And your marksmanship." He looked meaningfully at Finn, who had shot a fleeing slaver from a considerable distance. He had been ring leader Khalid's cousin...

"Don't mention it," said Marguerite cheerfully. "I was happy to wound Khalid and to kill that damned traitor, Juma. His taking my revolver was the beginning of that horrible experience. I was very glad to recover it from his body." She patted the Smith & Wesson .38 on her hip.

The group discussed who would attend the execution. Blacklaws had another safari to lead, and begged off. But Holly said that she would like to see it, and Diana reached out to her, telling her that she could ride with her and Stuart, who still owed two more weeks to his present clients.

The clients all said that they would not object if the Hamiltons took time off from their duties, provided that they got them to their hotel in time to shop for a day or two in Nairobi before packing to take ship in Mombasa, thence to England. Ned and Veronica would then spend a week each with the Challengers and the Roxtons before boarding a ship to their home in Brazil.

"I'm a little torn here," admitted Finn. "I've never seen a hanging, but I have seen enough death through other means that I don't know that I want to see this. Genius? Susan?" She turned to her husband and her secretary.

"I'll do what you decide, Finn," promised her spouse, as he pulled her to his side and kissed her forehead.

"I don't think I want to see that, ma'am," confessed Susan. "Just knowing that it will happen is enough for me."

"I know!" exclaimed Finn. "Genius, you're taking Susan and me shopping instead of to the execution. How does that sound to everyone?"

That produced some laughs, and some downturned lips, as some found that rather ghoulish. But the Challengers and Susan agreed that this was what they wanted to do.

"Just one thing," added Susan Wilson. "Sir John, will you give Khalid a note from me, saying that although I detest him and his actions, I will pray for his soul?"

That shook the company, but Musgrave nodded. "That is very kind of you, Miss Wilson. He's a Muslim, of course, but I think that he will appreciate your offer. I doubt that his soul will reach heaven, but you are very kind and very Christian to say that. You are a remarkable young woman, and I must say, it has been a pleasure knowing you."

Amanda Musgrave concurred and stepped over and hugged a solemn Susan.

"Well, we had better eat," noted Angus Hardy. "Susan, will you feel up to hunting that leopard tonight? That needs your concentration, you know, and can be quite dangerous."

Susan nodded. "That, I can and will do! It will be one of the great adventures of my life, I'm sure, and I have no intention of giving it up, just because this villain will be hanged, as he deserves. Stuart, we are still on for that hunt?"

"Absolutely," assured the hunter, beaming at her. "Good lass! We'll do our best to get you a big leopard, and some nice memories to go with the trophy!"

With that thought, the group filed into the dining room, where delicious smells soon had them talking more about dinner than about the upcoming execution. But Marguerite Roxton seemed subdued, and glanced often at Veronica Malone, who also seemed quiet and thoughtful. Of all of those taken slave, Veronica had suffered the most at the hands of her captors, and felt as if old wounds had been re-opened, just as she was trying to close them.

Later that afternoon, as the serrated shadows of evening faded into night, Hamilton drove up in his hunting car, hooting the horn. His two Africans were singing happily, and Susan was grinning from ear to ear.

"I bloody did it!" she shouted to Finn and Roxton, who were talking to each other on the veranda.

They hurried over, Hamilton calling for a lantern to be brought. When it was, with the rest of the whites and most of the household staff pouring out to see, they beheld one of the largest leopards yet shot in Kenya.

The boys hauled it from the car, and a block and tackle hoist was set up. It weighed 187 pounds, a very large leopard, indeed. It was in fine shape, the teeth unworn and the rosettes beautiful on the golden hide. The fur was glossy, the cat having been in the peak of health until he had sought to snack on what he had thought was another leopard's kill.

"Well," announced Ned Malone drolly, "this just goes to show you: there's no such thing as a free lunch!"

Veronica laughed, breaking the stress that she had been feeling over the news about Khalid. She kissed Ned, as others groaned and rolled their eyes at his wry humor. Susan and Finn beamed, and Finn leaned over and kissed him, then Veronica. Then, she did a little dance that amused her husband and Roxton.

"Susan, I am so proud of you!" she declared, and everyone pressed round, kissing Susan or shaking her hand, according to their nature and their sex.

The African safari staff lifted Susan onto their shoulders and began singing the leopard song, traditional musical fare for a successful hunter of this elusive, very dangerous species.

Challenger, being the closest thing that Susan had to a male relative, passed out money to the camp boys.

Hamilton arranged for the skinners to get busy, before the hair slipped and the hide was ruined. Everyone trooped back into the house, and Angus and Diana poured drinks all around. There was a toast to the successful huntress, and the company sat down at the table to hear how she had shot the stealthy carnivore.

It was the usual tale of such encounters, although every first time leopard hunter probably thinks that it was unique to him or to her.

The sitting silently in the blind, no cigarettes, no drinking, breathing carefully. No wrist watch on, lest the cat pass by the blind en route to the tree, and hear it ticking. Hoping that the wind will be still, lest it waft the aroma of humans to the passing cat, or alert other animals, with keener noses, who might react to the scent. A leopard is alert to how other animals behave, drawing useful conclusions from their conduct.

Finally, a faint scratching on the trunk of the tree as the cat climbed, then its sudden appearance, looking over the land before beginning to feed on the bait animal. Carefully lifting the rifle, a cartridge in the chamber, safety off, until the sights align on the feeding cat, the careful press of the trigger, and hopefully, the slap of the bullet hitting a vital spot on the savage feline. If the shot went awry, the professional hunter would have to follow up a wounded, potentially lethal beast, eager to return the favor of the attempt to kill him.

Hamilton had released his breath slowly, praying to hear the falling body slam into the ground with no scurrying sound as a wounded leopard scampered for cover. There had been no scurrying or creeping noises, and in a few minutes, he had led Susan over to the dead leopard, their rifles ready, him holding a freshly lit lantern to see as the remainder of the afternoon light slipped into night.

Susan was ecstatic, and Finn was hardly less proud. Challenger glowed like a proud father. Angus Hardy noted that no one was angry that the Wilson cat was larger than any that they had themselves shot. These were good people, generous to one another, and with less pettiness than any similar group that he had seen. He was pleased to have their acquaintance. He had been told by Diana of Roxton's anger at her incompetence that day, which had almost cost the Countess of Avebury her life. He was chagrined about that, understanding full well why Roxton was furious. But the Earl's own wife, who had been so much in peril, had asked for clemency for Diana, and agreed not to report the incident. He made a note to talk to Roxton later, smoothing over matters even better.

Now, there was great joy, for Susan was a popular girl, winning much sympathy from this "family" and from their hunters and their wives alike.

After things had settled down, supper was served and talk was much of the fine trophy and of the safari in general. But there were moments when Karanja's and Khalid's doings were discussed.

"It seems that we manage to provide unwanted excitement when you lot visit," noted Lady Musgrave. "I do hope that you'll all give us another chance, next year. Things should be more stable then. Maybe Susan would like to see if she can shoot an elephant on par with her magnificent leopard?"

"Maybe, if I win the Irish Sweepstakes in the meantme," quipped the young blonde, to general laughter.

"You won't need to win the Sweepstakes," said Stuart Hamilton quietly. "My wife slipped a bit today, and if you people will forgive us, I'll offer you a free safari of two weeks' time. Choose your game, and I'll buy the license for the species that Susan most wants. Same for Lady Roxton. We do want to make amends, if you'll trust us."

Roxton and Challenger looked carefully at one another, then Roxton shrugged. "It's up to Susan, Finn, and Marguerite. George and I will be happy to go along, if they want."

"We'll beg off, I think, but give us a rain check, in case." Ned Malone was concerned how this trip and the news of Khalid had affected Veronica. And they wanted to spend more time with their very young children. It was a long trip by sea from Brazil to Kenya. In those days, air service was rare and of shorter range.

"Let's look at the calendar," suggested Finn. "If we're just coming for a few weeks, maybe we'll do it. George and I need to be with the kids more, now that they pay attention to how long Mum and Dad leave them alone."

But it was on a positive note that they finally adjourned and drifted off to bed. Finn joined Susan as she cleaned her rifle. She had shot the leopard with her .275 Rigby, using the good Kynoch ammunition provided by Hardy and the Hamiltons. Finn noted with pleasure the more confident, familiar way that Susan handled her guns, making their use more an extension of her own body and personality. She saw herself in Susan as the slightly younger girl polished her Smith & Wesson .38 with an oily cloth, before setting it on her nightstand.

"Mrs. Challenger," spoke Susan, "Thank you for this safari and for all the help that you've been to me. I'll treasure this trip, and this night for all of my life." She glowed, despite her shyness. "The professor and you have been like parents to me, and I only wish that I knew how to express enough gratitude for all that you've done for me."

Finn laughed. "I'll tell George," she promised. "That will mean the world to him, for he likes you, a lot. But I'm almost your age. Just think of me as an older sister, not your Mum. Unless that's what you need. In that case, I'll be happy to have you as my daughter. I'll just have had to get busy as a mother at an early age!"

Susan looked slyly at her and said, "Well, ma'am, I have heard some wags call you the professor's child bride."

"Ooh, that stung!" laughed Finn. "Well, the Genius needed a daughter as much as he needed a wife. I'm probably both to him. Whatever. What we have suits us. Look, Susan: he still wants to have one of those nasty red spitting cobras, but we really can't have that on the ship, let alone at home. How far away can you be and still get a good photo of one? He'd love it."

The women discussed that, then they hugged and Finn bade Susan good night, again offering sincere congratulations on her fine leopard.

Finn slipped into her room, seeing Challenger in his pajamas, reading on the bed. She undressed, pretending not to notice him enjoying the view, until she was down to her lacy white bra and leopard print bikini panties. Then, she faced him and removed the bra coquettishly. Setting it on a dresser, she sauntered over, hands on her head, giving her man an unobstructed view of her trim body, lips parted a little, tongue flicking over them, looking him in the eye.

"Hey, Famous Scientist and Ultimate Husband...wanta fuck?" Her eyes danced with laughter and with love as he pulled her to him, peeling off the panties, and drew her into his bed.

We will draw the curtain on the Challengers for the next hour, lest any panting noises made by a passionate Finn embarrass us. Suffice to say that both she and her mate were sated by the time that the blonde beauty lay running her fingers over George's muscular arm as he held her, with her head on his shoulder.

"Hey, Genius? I have a confession to make. I love you." She rubbed noses with him, and he toyed with her ear, pulling teasingly on the lobe as she liked. She had removed her gold loop earrings as they had begun to get serious in bed, and the earrings were safely on the nightstand. She wore only a golden link ankle bracelet that Marguerite Roxton told her made her look like a teen tart. Finn always grinned at this, telling her brunette friend that she liked the bracelet and the way that it made her feel. "And George likes it, so there's no way that I'll quit wearing it. I'm totally his slut. Marguerite, we've been screwing together for over six years now, and every night, I feel like a bride on a wonderful, endless honeymoon! Well, most of the time."

Eventually, Marguerite had given up, just smiling and shaking her head when she saw the gleam of gold on Finn's ankle.

She ran the foot down George's leg now, noting his eyes following the bracelet on her shapely ankle. He held her hand and moved it to his lips. "You are loved right back, Darling, if not more so. How was Susan? I'm afraid that I became distracted. I was going to ask."

Finn chuckled throatily. "I got sort of distracted, myself, Lover. Thanks. You do a girl good in bed. But Susie is happier than I've ever seen her. Genius, she was so delighted! If we accomplished nothing more on this safari, bringing that much joy and self confidence to her makes it worthwhile. By the way, she said that she thinks of us as sort of her parents. She meant it as a major compliment." Finn rolled her eyes. "Me, the child bride, mother of a girl that age! But it makes me feel really good to hear that. I thought that you'd want to know."

Challenger chuckled. "I love hearing that, Darling. Nothing compares to our own children, but I do feel a rather warm place in my heart for Susan. I say! Do you suppose that she can use that Leica to get good photos of that red cobra for me?"

Finn was astounded. "Lover, were you listening outside her door? We were discussing that very thing. If we catch one and it holds still, she'll get safe pics. Or, we can get Ned to shoot one in the head with his Marlin .22 and pose it when we're sure that it's fully dead. We could even coil it, with sticks. None of us is touching one with our hands. Get that? But Susan promised that she'll get great photos. And Vee says that she'll paint one for you while she and Grandpa are at our place in Kent. She says that it'll look alive. So, we have the cobra thing covered."

Challenger was enchanted, and said so. But Finn waved off his praise. "What kind of wife would I be if I didn't think to arrange stuff like that?"

"Still a rather impressive one, I'm sure," said her husband. "I say, Finn, quit trying to put on those knickers." He took the panties from her and folded them by her gun and flashlight on her nightstand.

"I think I want to wake up to making love, and those will just be in the way if you're wearing them."

Finn grinned. "I can live with that. Hey, you wore you me out, what with the long day, too. Want the light out?"

"Please," he said, and when she had turned off the bedside lamp, she carressed him for a while longer, before snuggling against him, his front to her back, she tucking her length along his, his hand on her lower tummy, her own hand atop his. This was her favorite way to go to sleep, his body molding itself to her own, that she might feel even more his, secure in his grasp, her heart purring like a kitten as she slipped into dreamland.

Challenger kissed her neck, then settled in to sleep. All this, he thought, and a woman who thinks to get me snake pictures, as well. No wonder we feel that ours is the love of all time, the romance of the ages. Now, if we can just get through that execution without upsetting Finnykins or Susan, let alone Veronica and Marguerite, or the other ladies...Sometimes, justice is as bitter as it is sweet!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Just over a week later, as they sat in the New Stanley Hotel in Nairobi, the Challengers and Susan Wilson greeted their friends as they joined them after witnessing Khalid's execution.

They ordered dinner, and those who had attended that morbid event described it.

"Khalid was game to the last, I suppose," admitted Marguerite Roxton. "A bitter, vengeful man. He looked right at me and spat, just before the executioner put the hood over his head."

Veronica interrupted. "Marguerite, he also had some parting words for us. He shouted, 'Burn in Hell, English whores!'. It's nice to know that he felt so fond of us, not that he mentioned this particular Anglo-Brazilian whore. But I feel sure that I was included in his comment. Maybe I became an honorary Englishwoman in his view." She grimaced, and exchanged glances with Finn.

"He was pretty awful, and his behavior makes me feel absolutely no remorse over his death," confessed Holly Blacklaws. "The ragheaded varlet only got what was coming to him. If I had my preference, I'd have given him a nastier send-off."

"What did Sir John say about that?" wondered Challenger.

"He just gave us an apologetic look," explained John Roxton. "He and Amanda sent their best wishes to you, by the way. They had to attend a reception for the Colonial Secretary at Government House, or they'd have joined us tonight. Oh: the Governor also sent his greetings, and he hopes that we'll hunt here again next year, without any wild-eyed witch doctors to enliven the visit."

"Did Khalid get my letter?" asked Susan. "I really did pray for his soul. Maybe he just had a bad youth, to turn out as he did."

Roxton nodded and told Marguerite to give Susan a note from the doomed man that the guards had passed to her. "Read this aloud, please, Susan," requested Lady Roxton as she handed Susan the note. "I think we'd all like to know his parting thoughts to you, after your kindness to him."

Susan gave her a hesitant look, then opened the note. She read, "Susan, my pretty! I thank you for your kind thoughts as your race prepares to send me into paradise. You are a fine girl, and I hope fervently that you become the slave that you were born to be, kneeling at the side of a man who will extract full, obedient service from you. I only regret that I failed to enjoy your charms while I might have. Alas, your friends arrived before I could deliver you to the fate that you deserve, at the hands of a strong master."

She blushed. "Well, I won't miss him. His attitude toward us girls doesn't seem to have changed since I last set eyes on him."

Marguerite snorted. "He had an air of grandeur in writing that. The Sultan had forbidden him using us before delivering us, anyway. I only wish that I had had a free hand in dealing with him, but there were too many witnesses."

"You did get to wound him, Darling," pointed out her husband. "And you managed to stab two of his minions to death. Remember that when you open the mail with that dagger that you took from one of them. Very nice dagger, too, if I say so, myself."

"I've kept the Luger that you took off one of those guards," contributed Diana Hamilton. "I sometimes set up empty tin cans and have a go at them with it. I pretend that each can is a slaver. I feel a little less violated every time I bounce one of those cans!"

Several of the group laughed, and Stuart took his wife's hand and squeezed it. "You're coming along well, Darling. I'll order you another crate of 9mm ammunition, if it helps that much. Good therapy, and cheaper than a shrink in Nairobi."

"Let's discuss something more pleasant," suggested Veronica. "Did George take you girls shopping today? What did you buy, and where should Neddy and I look for souvenirs? We need to get some items to remember this trip by, and some for the kids."

Talk soon ranged over several areas, with Roxton and Blacklaws getting into a discussion as to whether the .275 Rigby was, for practical purposes, as effective as the .275 H&H Magnum. Blacklaws had a rifle in the latter caliber, but finally conceded that with modern loads, there was scant difference at any reasonable range.

"That's what I keep telling Finn and John," pointed out the Countess. "Why waste words on that sort of thing when one can discuss more important matters, like diamonds and dresses?"

"Because the only thing that I know about dresses is that I like them to be the sort that I can take off of you easily," retorted her mate, to snickers from the others. The ladies blushed a little, but laughed as much as their men. Susan looked a bit wistful, wondering when a man would come into her life. She said so, adding, "I'm getting tired of always taking off my own clothes, slavers excepted."

"Susan, you need to stop drinking the champagne after this glass," suggested an amused Veronica. "But I feel sure that you'll snag a man soon, if you really want one. They have their uses, even if you do have to pick up a lot after most of them."

Gradually, they finished dinner and dessert, cake for most and ice cream for Finn and Ned. Then, they bade one another good night, and drifted off to bed. They had three days to shop and pack, then had to take the train to Mombasa and board their ship.

XXX

In their room, the Roxtons lay beside one another after John had demonstrated how easily he could get Marguerite's dress off, if she offered no resistance. That had led to other activity, from which they now lay recovering, tired but happy.

"Are you glad that we came on this trip?" he asked. "It had a few thorns, but overall, I think we'll take home some happy memories."

"And some bloody grim ones!" she replied. "I can't get it out of my head how awful Karanja was, or how Susan and I saw those lions in our dreams. John, maybe I AM a witch! Does that bother you?"

"It puzzles me," he admitted. "But your little dance helped to frighten the rebel natives and put the fear of Morrighan into our own 'boys.' Did you notice how they looked at you after that ceremony? Some seemed less surly about getting their work done around camp, too. But I married you knowing that you might be the reincarnation of Morrighan. I can live with that. Despite what Finn says about her marriage to George, I still think of you as the ultimate wife. Just don't cast any bad spells. Do you want to come here again next year? The Challengers want to try hunting in India, and Finny wants to get movies of a tiger hunt and a python and a King Cobra. She thinks that will help on her lecture tours."

Marguerite played with her husband's hair. "If Finn wants to pack her lecture halls, she ought to do that lewd dance that she did at my little witchcraft ceremony, and get Susan to join her. Men would be spellbound! But I suppose that she has to be more respectable at home. I know! Let's come here for a few weeks, then go on to India. I want to buy some jewels there and some saris that I'll have copied in England for sale to some ladies I know whose husbands might like them in those. Not out in public, of course. I know how to make a profit on the gems, and I actually would like to shoot a tiger or two. You and Finny can have all sorts of fun doing that, too, and riding elephants. Look here, we're filthy rich, and I'll make even more off of that trip. Can we finance Susan's accompanying us? George and Finn are well off, but we can afford that better than they can and Finn will need Susan to help with her photos and dictation. And Susan may never have a similar opportunity to see India. I quite like that girl. She's shy, but she has spirit. I see why she worships Finny. Anyway, we can offer, if George and Finn are hesitant to take her on their own. And I want Susan to photograph the Taj Mahal and some other places for us. I want to do a travel book on India, I think. With your influence, we can visit the Viceroy and get access to anywhere we'd like to go."

"Suits me. I'll talk to George about it tomorrow. Sounds like a good plan. But I want us to spend plenty of time at Avebury next year, too. I do so love that place! You only make it more perfect, Marguerite. I often give thanks that you had the good sense to marry me."

She kissed him and whispered, "How tired are you? Do you want me to give you some more reasons to be thankful that I became Lady Roxton?"

After she had once again made him marvel at her lovemaking skills, she lay asleep in the crook of Roxton's arm. He looked back over the trip and rejoiced that they had all survived the close calls with the witch doctor's insurrection and the lions and the rest. Susan had been very lucky when that hyena had come into her tent. But what was life without adventure?

Roxton kissed the sleeping Marguerite and settled himself into a comfortable posture beside her. He did like her idea of coming here again, then on to India. And it should be a safe trip. What chance had a tiger against the Countess of Avebury? Roxton smiled and slept the sleep of a content man.

The End


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